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POETICAL WORKS 



ANDREW MARVELL 



MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON: 
LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY 

SHEPAKI), CLAKK A>-D BROAVX. 

CINCIXXATi: MOOKE, AVILSTACH, KEYS AND Co. 

M.DCCC.LVII. 



tt^^ 



^^ 



f.^.^ 



RIVERSIDE, Cambridge: 

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



G?? 



POEMS OF MARVELL. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

Notice of the Authok ix 

Upon the hill and gi'ove at Billborow. To the Lord 

Fairfax 3 

Appleton House. To the Lord Fairfax 7 

The Coronet 34 

Eyes and Tears 36 

Bermudas 39 

Clorinda and Damon 41 

A Dialogue between the Soul and Body 44 

The Nymph complaining for the Death of her Fawn ... 46 

Young Love 51 

To his Coy Mistress 53 

The Unfortunate Lover 55 

The Galleiy 58 

The Fair Singer 61 

Mourning 63 

Daphnis and Chloe 65 

The Definition of Love 71 

The Picture of T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers 73 



VI CONTENTS. 

Page 
Two Songs on the Lord Fauconberg, and the Lady- 
Mary Cromwell 75 

Second Song 79 

A Dialogue between Thyrsis and Doiinda 82 

The Match 86 

The Mower against Gardens 89 

Damon the Mower , 91 

The Mower to the Glow Worms 95 

The Mower's Song 96 

Ametas and Thestylis making Hay-Ropes 98 

Music's Empire 100 

To his Worthy Friend Doctor Witty, upon his Trans- 
lation of the popular Errors 102 

On Milton's Paradise Lost 104 

An Epitaph 107 

Translated from Seneca's Tragedy of Thyestes 108 

A Dialogue between the Resolved Soul, and Created 

Pleasure 109 

x\Drop of Dew. Translated 114 

The Garden. Translated 116 

On the Victory obtained by Blake, over the Span- 
iards, in the Bay of Santa Cruz in the Island 

of Teneriffe, 1657 119 

The Loyal Scot. By Cleveland's Ghost, upon the 
Death of Captain Douglas, who was burned 

on his ship at Chatham 127 

A Hoi'atian Ode upon Cromwell's return from Ireland . . 134 
The First Anniversary of the Government under his 

Highness the Lord Protector 139 

A Poem upon the Death of his late Highness the 

Lord Protector 155 



CONTENTS. Vn 

Page 
Satires. 

The Character of Holland 171 

Flecno, an English Priest at Rome 178 

Tom May's Death 185 

Oceana and Britannia 190 

Britannia and Raleigh 199 

Ikstructioxs to a Painter about the Dutch 

Wars, 1667 208 

To the King 244 

Part n 247 

To the King 252 

Part III 253 

A Dialogue between two Horses, 1674. 

Introduction 256 

The Dialogixe 258 

Hodge's Vision from the Monument, December, 1675 . . . 270 

Clarendon's House-warming 278 

Upon his House 285 

On the Lord Mayor, and Court of Aldermen, pre- 
senting the King and the Duke of York, each 
with a copy of his freedom, Anno Dom. 1674. 

A Ballad 286 

On Blood's stealing the Crown 292 

Xostradmus' Prophecy 293 

Royal Resolutions 296 

Art Historical Poem 299 

Carmixa ]Miscell,anea. 

Ros 309 

Hortus • 311 



Viii CONTENTS. 

Page 
Cakmina Miscellanea, {continued.) 
Dignissimo suo Amico Doctori Witty. De transla- 

tione vulgi errorum D. Primrojsii 314 

In Eunucham Poetam 315 

In Legationem Domini Oliveri St. John, ad Provin- 

cias Foederatas 316 

Doctori Ingelo, Cum Domino Wliitlocke ad Reginam 
Suecise Delegate a Protectore, Residenti, Epis- 

tola 317 

In Effigiem Oliveri Cromwell 322 

In Eandem Reginse Suecire Transmissam 322 

Ad Regem Carolum, de Sobole, 1637 323 

Cuidam, qui, Legendo Scripturam, Descripsit For- 
mam, sapientiam sortemque Authoris. lUu- 
trissimo Viro Domino Lanceloto Joseplio De 

Maniban, Grammatomanti 326 

In Duos Montes, Amosclivium et Bilboreum. Farfacio . 329 
Joannis Trottii EpitapMum. Charissimo Filio, etc. 
Pater et Mater, etc. Funebrem Tabulam Cu- 

ravimus 331 

Edmundi Trottii Epitaphium. Charissimo Filio, 
Edmundo Trottio, Posuimus Pater et Mater, 

frustra Superstites 333 

liph^ Ku^[)o?iOv Tov BuGLlsa 335 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

Andrew Marvell was a native of Kingston- 
upon-Hnll,* where he was born November 15, 
1620. His father, of the same name, was master 
of the grammar school, and lecturer of Trinity 
Church in that town. He is described bj Fuller 
and Echard as " facetious," so that his son's wit, 
it would appear, was hereditary. He is also said 
to have displayed considerable eloquence in the 
pulpit; and even to have excelled in that kind 
of oratory which would seem at first sight least 
allied to a mirthful temperament — we mean the 
pathetic. The conjunction, however, of wit and 
sensibility, has been found in a far greater num- 
ber of instances than would at first sight be 
imagined, as we might easily prove by examples, 
if this were the place for it : nor would it be 
difficult to give the rationale of the fact. Both, at 
all events, are amongst the most general, though 
far from universal accompaniments of genius. 

* So all the biographers ; but a -writer in " Notes and 
Queries," says that he Avas born at Winstead in Holderaess, 
where his baptismal register is still extant. 



X NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

The diligence of Mr. Marvell's pulpit prepara- 
tions has been celebrated by Fuller in his " Wor- 
thies," with characteristic quaintness. " He was 
a most excellent preacher,'* says he, " who never 
broached what he had new brewed, but preached 
what he had pre-studied some competent time 
before, insomuch that he was wont to say, that he 
would cross the common proverb, which called 
Saturday the working day and Monday the holi- 
day of preachers." The lessons of the pulpit he 
enforced by the persuasive eloquence of a devoted 
life. During the pestilential epidemic of 1637, 
we are told that he distinguished himself by an 
intrepid discharge of his pastoral functions. 

Having given early indications of superior 
talents, young Andrew was sent, when not quite 
fifteen years of age, to Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, where he was partly or wholly maintained 
by an exhibition from his native town. He had 
not been long there, when, like Chillingvvorth, 
he was ensnared by the proselyting arts of the 
Jesuits, who, with subtilty equal to their zeal, 
commissioned their emissaries specially to aim at 
the conversion of such of the university youths 
as gave indications of signal ability. It appears 
that he was inveigled from college to London. 
Having been tracked thither by his father, he 
was discovered, after some months, in a booksel- 
ler's shop, and restored to the university. During 
the two succeeding years he pursued his studies 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XI 

with diligence. About this period he lost his 
father under circumstances peculiarly affecting. 

The death of this good man forms one of those 
little domestic tragedies — not infrequent in real 
life — to which imagination itself can scarcely add 
one touching incident, and which are as affecting 
as any that fiction can furnish. It appears that 
on the other side of the Humber lived a lady (an 
intimate friend of Marveli's father) who had an 
only and lovely daughter, endeared to all who 
knew her, and so much the idol of her mother 
that she could scarcely bear her to be out of her 
sight. On one occasion, however, she yielded to 
the importunity of Mr. Marvell, and suffered her 
daughter to cross the water to Hull, to be present 
at the baptism of one of his children. The day 
after the ceremony, the young lady was to return. 
The weather was tempestuous, and on reaching 
the river's side, accompanied by Mr. Marvell, the 
boatmen endeavored to dissuade her from cross- 
ing. But, afraid of alarming her mother by pro- 
longing her absence, she persisted. Mr. Marvell 
added his importunities to the arguments of the 
boatmen, but in vain. Finding her inflexible, he 
told her that as she had incurred this peril to 
oblige him, he felt himself " bound in honour and 
conscience" not to desert her, and, having pre- 
vailed on some boatmen to hazard the passage, 
they embarked together. As they were putting 
off, he flung his gold-headed cane on shore, and 



Xll NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

told the spectators that, in case he should never 
return, it was to be given his son, with the in- 
junction "to remember his father." The boat 
was upset, and both were lost.* 

As soon as the mother had a little recovered 
the shock, she sent for the young orphan, inti- 
mated her intention to provide for his education, 
and at her death left him all she possessed. 

One of his biographers informs us that young 
Marvell took his degree of B. A. in the year 1638, 
and was admitted to a scholarship. f If so, he 
did not retain it very long. Though in no fur- 
ther danger from the Jesuits, he seems to have 
been beset by more formidable enemies in his 
own bosom. Either from too early becoming his 
own master, or from being betrayed into follies 
to which his lively temperament and social quali- 
ties readily exposed him, he became negligent of 
his studies; and having absented himself from 
certain " exercises," and otherwise been guilty of 
sundry unacademic irregularities, he, with four 
others, was adjudged by the masters and seniors 
unworthy of " receiving any further benefit from 
the college," unless they showed just cause to the 



* Another and more poetical version of the story- is, that 
Mr. Marvell had a presentiment of his fate and that he threw 
on shore his staff, as the boat shoved off, crying, " Ho, for 
Heaven!" See Hartley Coleridge's Life of Marvell in Bio- 
graphia Borealis, 1st ed. p. 5. — Ed. 

t Cooke, in the life prefixed to Marvell's Poems, 1726. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. Xlil 

contrary \vithiii three months. The required 
vindication does not appear to have been found, 
or at all events was never offered. The record 
of this transaction bears date September 24, 1641. 
Soon after this, probably at the commence- 
ment of 1642, Marvell seems to have set out 



on 



his travels, in the course of -which he visited a 
great part of Europe. At Rome he stayed a 
considerable time, where Milton was then residing, 
and where, in all probability, their life-long friend- 
ship commenced. With an intrepidity, charac- 
teristic of both, it is said they openly argued 
against the superstitions of Rome within the pre- 
cincts of the Vatican. 

After this we have no trace whatever of Mar- 
vell for some years ; and his biographers have, 
as usual, endeavoured to supj^ly the deficiency 
by conjecture — some of them so idly, that they 
have made him secretary to an embassy which 
had then no existence. 

It is not known when he returned to England ; 
but that he was already there in 1652, and had 
been there for some time, appears by a recom- 
mendatory letter of Milton to Bradshaw, dated 
February 21, of that year. It appears that Mar- 
vell was then an unsuccessful candidate for the 
office of Assistant Latin Secretary. In this 
letter, after describing Marvell as a man of " sin- 
gular desert," both from '^ report " and personal 
" converse," he proceeds to say — " He hath spent 



XIV NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

four years abroad, in Holland, France, Italy, and 
Spain, to very good purpose, as I believe, and 
the gaining of those four languages; besides, he 
is a scholar, and well read in the Latin and 
Greek authors, and no doubt of an approved con- 
versation; for he comes now lately out of the 
house of the Lord Fairfax, ivhere he was in- 
trusted to give some instructions in the languages 
to the lady, his daughter^ Milton concludes the 
letter with a sentence which fully discloses the 
very high estimation he had formed of Marvell's 
abilities — " This, my lord, I write sincerely, with- 
out any other end than to perform my duty to 
the public in helping them to an humble servant; 
laying aside those jealousies and that emulation 
which mine own condition might suggest to me 
by bringing in such a coadjutor.'' 

In the year, 1657, Marvell was appointed tutor 
to Cromwell's nephew, Mr. Dutton.* Shortly 
after receiving his charge, he addressed a let- 
ter to the Protector, from which we extract one 
or two sentences characteristic of his caution, 

* This Mr. Dutton, though called Cromwell's nephew in 
all the notices of Marvell we have seen, seems to have been 
in no way related to him. Perhaps he was the son of Sir 
Ralph Dutton, and nephew to John Dutton, Esq., who became 
his guardian on the death of his father, and bequeathed him 
to the care of Cromwell, with a wish that he might marry 
his daughter, the Lady Frances Cromwell. His will was 
proved 30 June, 1657. The marriage never took place. See 
Noble's Memoirs, i. 196, note. Ed. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XV 

good sense, and conscientiousness. " I have taken 
care," says he, " to examine him [his pupil] 
several times in the presence of Mr. Oxen- 
bridge, as those who weigh and tell over money 
before some witness ere they take charge of it ; 
for I thought there might be, possibly, some 
lightness in the coin, or error in the telling, 
which, hereafter, I should be bound to make 

good." " He is of a gentle and 

waxen disposition ; and God be praised, I cannot 
say he hath brought with him any evil impres- 
sion, and I shall hope to set nothing into his 
spirit but what may be of a good sculpture. He 
hath in him two things that make youth most 
easy to be managed — modesty, which is the bri- 
dle to vice — and emulation, which is the spur to 

virtue Above all, I shall labour 

to make him sensible of his duty to God ; for 
then we begin to serve faithfully when we con- 
sider He is our master." 

On the publication of Milton's second " De- 
fence," Marvell was commissioned to present it 
to the Protector. After doing so, he addressed a 
letter of compliment to Milton, the terms of 
which evince the strong admiration with which 
his illustrious friend had inspired him. His 
eulogy of the " Defence " is as emphatic as that 
of the Paradise Lost, in the well-known recom- 
mendatory lines prefixed to most editions of that 
poem. 



XVI NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

In 1657, Marvell entered upon his duties as 
Assistant Latin Secretary with Milton. Crom- 
well died in the following year; and from this 
period till the Parliament of 1660, we have no 
further account of him. We have seen it stated 
that he became member for Hull in 1658. But 
this is not true, and would be at variance with 
the statement in his epitaph, where it is said that 
he had occupied that post nearly twenty years.* 
Had he been first elected in 1658, he would 
have been member somewhat more than that 
period. 

During his long parliamentary career, Marvell 
maintained a close correspondence with his con- 
stituents — regularly sending to them, almost every 
post night during the sittings of Parliament, an 
account of its proceedings. These letters were 
first made public by Captain Thompson, and 
occupy about four hundred pages of the first 
volume of his edition of Marvell's works. They 
are written with great plainness, and with a busi- 



* Perhaps we are not to expect verbal exactness in an 
epitaph, or perhaps allowance was made for the period of 
Marvell's absence from his duties, but if he had not been 
chosen to the Parliament of 1658-9 under Eichard's Pro- 
tectorate, it would be hard to explain why Marvell, in return- 
ing thanks to the Corporation of Hull in a letter dated 6th 
April, 1661, should say, " I perceive you have again made 
choice of me, now the third time, to serve you in Parlia- 
ment." According to the statement in the text, he should 
have said second. Ed. 



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NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XVIL 

ness-like brevity, which must have satisfied, we- 
should think, even the most laconic of his mer- 
chant constituents. They are chiefly valuable 
now, as affording proofs of the ability and fidelity 
with which their author discharged his public 
duties. 

Marvell's stainless probity and honour every- 
where appear, and in no case more amiably than 
in the unhappy misunderstanding with his col- 
league, or " his partner," as he calls him. Colonel 
Gilby, in 1661, and which seems to have arisen 
out of some electioneering proceedings. With 
such unrivalled talents for ridicule as Marvell 
possessed, one might not unnaturally have ex- 
pected that this dispute would have furnished an 
irresistible tempation to some ebullition of witty 
malice. But his magnanimity was far superior 
to such mean retaliation. He is eager to do his 
opponent the amplest justice, and to put the 
fairest construction on his conduct. He is fearful 
only lest their private quarrel should be of the 
slighest detriment to the public service. He 
says — " The bonds of civility betwixt Colonel 
Gilby and myself being unhappily snapped in 
pieces, and in such a manner that I cannot see 
how it is possible ever to knit them again : the 
only trouble that I have is, lest by our mis-intel- 
ligence your business should receive any disad- 
vantage Truly, I believe, that as 

to your public trust and the discharge thereof, 
h 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XVIL 

ness-like brevity, which must have satisfied, we- 
should think, even the most laconic of his mer- 
chant constituents. They are chiefly valuable 
now, as affording proofs of the ability and fidelity 
with which their author discharged his public 
duties. 

Marvell's stainless probity and honour every- 
where appear, and in no case more amiably than 
in the unhappy misunderstanding with his col- 
league, or " his partner," as he calls him. Colonel 
Gilby, in 1661, and which seems to have arisen 
out of some electioneering proceedings. With 
such unrivalled talents for ridicule as Marvell 
possessed, one might not unnaturally have ex- 
pected that this dispute would have furnished an 
irresistible tempation to some ebullition of witty 
malice. But his magnanimity was far superior 
to such mean retaliation. He is eager to do his 
opponent the amplest justice, and to put the 
fairest construction on his conduct. He is fearful 
only lest their private quarrel should be of the 
slighest detriment to the public service. He 
says — " The bonds of civility betwixt Colonel 
Gilby and myself being unhappily snapped in 
pieces, and in such a manner that I cannot see 
how it is possible ever to knit them again : the 
only trouble that I have is, lest by our mis-intel- 
ligence your business should receive any disad- 
vantage Truly, I believe, that as 

to your public trust and the discharge thereof, 
h 



XVUl NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

we do each of us still retain the same iDrinci- 
ples upon which we first undertook it ; and that, 
though perhaps we may sometimes differ in our 
advice concerning the way of proceeding, yet we 
have the same good ends in the general ; and by 
this unlucky falling out, we shall be provoked to 
a greater emulation of serving you." * Yet the 
offence, whatever it was, must have been a grave 
one, for he says at the conclusion of the same 
letter — " I would not tell you any tales, because 
there are nakednesses which it becomes us to 
cover, if it be possible ; as I shall, unless I be 
obliged to make some vindications by any false 
report or misinterpretations. In the mean time, 
pity, I beseech you, my weakness; for there are 
some tilings which men ought 7iot, others that they 
cannot patiently suffer.''^ 

Of his integrity even in little things — of his 
desire to keep his conscience pure and his repu- 
tation untarnished — we have some striking proofs. 
On one occasion he had been employed by his 
constituents to wait on the Duke of Monmouth, 
then governor of Hull, with a complimentary 
letter, and to present him with a purse contain- 
ing " six broad pieces " as an honorary fee. He 
says — " He had before I came in, as I was told, 
considered what to do with the gold ; and but 
that I by all means prevented the offer, I had 

* Marvell's Letters, pp. 33, 34. 
t Ibid. p. 36. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XIX 

been in danger of being reimbursed with it."* 
In the same letter he says — " I received the bill 
which was sent me on Mr. Nelehorpe ; but the 
surplus of it exceeding much the expense I have 
been at on this occasion, I desire you to make 
use of it, and of me, upon any other opportu- 
nity." f 

In one of his letters he makes the following 
declaration, which we have no doubt was per- 
fectly sincere, and, what is still more strange, 
implicitly believed: — "I shall, God willing, 
maintain the same incorrupt mind and clear con- 
science, free from faction or any self -ends, which 
I have, by his grace, hitherto preserved.'^ % 

Not seldom, to the very moderate " wages " of 
a legislator, was added some homely expression 
of good-will on the part of the constituents. That 
of the Hull people generally appeared in the 
shape of a stout cask of ale, for which Mar- 
vell repeatedly returns thanks. In one letter he 
says — "We must first give you thanks for the 
kind present you have pleased to send us, which 
will give occasion to us to remember you often ; 
but the (Quantity is so great that it might make 
sober men forgetful." § 

Marvell's correspondence extends through 
nearly twenty years. From June, 1661, there 
is, however, a considerable break, owing to his 

* Marvell's Letters, p. 210. f Ibid. p. 210. 

X Ibid. p. 276. § Ibid. po. 14, 15. 



XX £^ NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

absence for an unknown period — probably about 
two years — in Holland. He showed little dis- 
position to return till Lord Bellasis, then high 
steward of Hull, proposed to that worthy cor- 
poration to choose a substitute for their absent 
member. They replied that he was not far off, 
and would be ready at their summons. He was 
then at Frankfort, and at the solicitation of his 
constituents immediately returned, April, 1663. 

But he had not been more than three months 
at home, when he intimates to his correspondents 
his intention to accept an invitation to accompany 
Lord Carlisle, who had been appointed ambas- 
sador-extraordinary to Russia, Sweden, and Den- 
mark. He formally solicits the assent of his 
constituents to this step, urges the precedents for 
it, and assures them that during his watchful col- 
league's attendance, his own services may be 
easily dispensed with. His constituents con- 
sented; he sailed in July, and appears to have 
been absent rather more than a year. We find 
him in his place in the Parliament that assembled 
at Oxford, 1665. 

In 1671, for some unknown reason, there is 
another hiatus in his correspondence. It ex- 
tends over three years. From 1674, the letters 
are regularly continued till his death. There is 
no proof that he ever spoke in Parliament ; but 
it appears that he made copious notes of all the 
debates. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXI 

The strong views which Marvell took on public 
affairs — the severe, satirical things which he had 
said and written from time to time — and the con- 
viction of his enemies, that it was impossible to 
silence him by the usual methods of a place or a 
bribe, must have rendered a warj and circum- 
spect conduct very necessary. In fact, w^e are 
informed that on more than one occasion he was 
menaced with assassination. But, though hated 
by the court party generally, he was as generally 
feared, and in some few instances respected. 
Prince Rupert continued to honour him with his 
friendship long after the rest of his party had 
honoured him by their hatred, and occasionally 
visited the patriot at his lodgings. When he 
voted on the side of Marvell, which was not in- 
frequently the case, it used to be said that " he 
had been with his tutor." 

Inaccessible as Marvell was to flattery and 
offers of preferment, it certainly was not for want 
of temptations. The account of his memorable 
interview with the Lord Treasurer Danby has 
been often repeated, and yet it would be unpar- 
donable to omit it here. Marvell, it appears, once 
spent an evening at court, and fairly charmed 
the merry monarch by his accomplishments and 
wit. At this we need not wonder : Charles loved 
wit above all things — except sensual pleasure. 
To his admiration of it, especially the humorous 
species, he was continually sacrificing his royal 



XXU NOTICE OF THE AUTHOK. 

dignity. On the morning after the above-men- 
tioned interview, he sent Lord Danbj to wait on 
the patriot with a special message of regard. His 
lordship had some difficulty in ferreting out Mar- 
veil's residence ; but at last found him on a second 
floor, in a dark court leading out of the Strand. 
It is said, that groping up the narrow staircase, 
he stumbled against tlie door of Marvell's humble 
apartment, which, flying open, discovered him 
writing. A little surprised, he asked his lordship 
with a smile, if he had not mistaken his way. 
The latter replied, in courtly phrase — " No ; not 
since I have found Mr. Marvell." He proceeded 
to inform him that he came with a message from 
the king, who was impressed with a deep sense 
of his merits, and was anxious to serve him. 
Marvell replied with somewhat of the spirit of 
the founder of the Cynics, but with a very differ- 
ent manner, " tliat his Majesty had it not in his 
power to serve him." * Becoming more serious, 
however, he told his lordship that he well knew 



* Another and less authentic version of this anecdote has 
been given, much more circumstantial, indeed, but on that 
very account, in our judgment, more apocryphal. But if the 
main additions to the story be fictitious, they are amongst 
those fictions which have gained extensive circulation only 
because they are felt to be not intrinsically improbable. 
We have been at some pains to investigate the origin of this 
version; but can trace it no further than to a pamphlet 
printed in Ireland about the middle of the last century. Of 
this we have not been able to get a perusal. Suffice it 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXlll 

that he who accepts court favour is expected to 
vote in its interest. On his lordship's saying, 
''that his Majesty only desired to know whether 
there was any place at court he would accept ; " 
the patriot replied, " that he could accept nothing 
with honour, for either he must treat the king 
with ingratitude by refusing compliance with 
court measures, or be a traitor to his country by 
yielding to them." The only favour, therefore, 
he begged of his Majesty, was to esteem him as 
a loyal subject, and truer to his interests in refus- 
ing his offers than he could be by accepting them. 
His lordship having exhausted this species of 
logic, tried the argumentum ad crumenam, and 
told him that his Majesty requested his accept- 
ance of £1,000. But this, too, was rejected with 
firmness ; " though," says his biographer, " soon 
after the departure of his lordship, Marvell was 
compelled to borrow a guinea from a friend." 

In 1672 commenced Marvell's memorable con- 
troversy with Samuel Parker, afterwards Bishop 
of Oxford, of which we shall give a somewhat 
copious account. To this it is entitled from the 
important influence which it had on Marvell's 
reputation and fortunes ; and as having led to the 
composition of that work, on which his literary 

to sa}', that the version it contains of the above interview, 
and which has been extensively circulated, is not borne 
out by the early biographies ; for example, that of Cooke, 
1726. 



XXIV NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

fame, so far as he has any, principally depends — 
we mean the Rehearsal Transprosed, 

Parker was one of the worst specimens of the 
highest of the high churchmen of the reign of 
Charles II. It is difficult in such times as these 
to conceive of such a character as, by universal 
testimony, Parker is proved to have been. Such 
men could not well flourish in any other age than 
that of Charles II. Only in such a period of un- 
blushing profligacy — of public corruption, happily 
unexampled in the history of England — could we 
expect to find a Bishop Parker, and his patron 
and parallel, Archbishop Sheldon. The high 
churchmen of that day managed to combine the 
most hideous bigotry, with an utter absence of 
seriousness — a zeal worthy of a " Pharisee " with 
a character which would have disgraced a " publi- 
can." Scarcely Christians in creed, and any thing 
rather than Christians in practice, they yet in- 
sisted on the most scrupulous compliance with the 
most trivial points of ceremonial ; and persisted 
in persecuting thousands of devout and honest 
men, because they hesitated to obey. Things 
which they admitted to be indifferent, and which, 
without violation of conscience, they might have 
forborne to enforce, they remorselessly urged on 
those who solemnly declared that without such a 
violation they could not comply. More tolerant 
of acknowledged vice than of supposed error, 
drunkenness and debauchery were venial, com- 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXV 

pared with doubts about the propriety of making 
the sign of the cross in baptism, or using the ring 
in marriage ; and it would have been better for 
a man to break half the commands in the deca- 
logue, than admit a doubt of the most frivolous 
of the church's rites. Equally truculent and ser- 
vile, they displayed to all above them a meanness 
proportioned to the insolence they evinced to all 
below them. They formally invested the mo- 
narch with absolute power over the consciences 
of his subjects ; and, with a practice in harmony 
with their principles, were ready at any moment 
(if they had had any) to surrender their own. 
As far as appears, they would have been willing 
to embrace the faith of Mahometans or Hindoos 
at the bidding of his Majesty ; and to believe and 
disbelieve as he commanded them. Extravagant 
as all this may appear, we shall shortly see it 
gravely propounded by Parker himself. It was 
fit that those who were willing to offer such vile 
adulation, should be suffered to present it to such 
an object as Charles II. — that so grotesque an 
idolatry should have as grotesque an idol. As it 
was, the God was every way worthy of the 
worshippers. In a word, these men seemed to 
reconcile the most opposite vices and the widest 
contrarieties ; bigotry and laxity — pride and 
meanness — religious scrupulosity and mocking 
scepticism — a persecuting zeal against conscience, 
and an indulgent latitudinarianism towards vice — 



XXVI NOTICE or THE AUTHOR. 

the truculence of tyrants and the sycophancy of 
parasites. 

Happily the state of things which generated 
such men has long since passed away. But 
examples of this sort of high churchmanship 
were not infrequent in the age of Charles II. ; 
and perhaps Bishop Parker may be considered 
the most perfect specimen of them. His father 
was one of Oliver Cromwell's most obsequious 
committee-men; his son, who was born in 1640, 
was brought up in the principles of the Puritans, 
and was sent to Oxford in 1659. He was just 
twenty at the Restoration, and immediately com- 
menced and soon completed his transformation 
into one of the most arrogant and time-serving of 
high churchmen. 

Some few propositions, for which he came 
earnestly to contend as for the faith once de- 
livered to the saints, may give an idea of the 
principles and the temper of this worthy suc- 
cessor .of the Apostles. He affirms, " That unless 
princes have power to bind their subjects to 
that religion they appreheyid most advantageous to 
public peace and tranquillity, and restrain those 
religious mistakes that tend to its subversion, they 
are no better than statues and images of author- 
ity : That in cases and disputes of public con- 
cernment, private men are not properly sui juris ; 
they have no power over their own actions ; they 
are not to be directed by their own judgments, or 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXVll 

determined by their own wills, but by the com- 
mands and the determinations of the public con- 
science ; and that if there he any sin in the com- 
mand, he that imposed it shall arisiuer for it, and 
not I, whose whole duty it is to obey. The com- 
mands of authority will xoarrant my obedience ; my 
obedience will hallow, or at least excuse my action, 
and so secure me from sin, if not from error ; and 
in all doubtful and disputable cases 'tis better to 
err with authority, than to be in the right against 
it : That it is absolutely necessary to the peace 
and happiness of kingdoms, that there be set up a 
more severe government over men's consciences 
and religious persuasions than over their vices 
and immoralities ; and that princes may with less 
hazard give liberty to men's vices and debauche- 
ries than their consciences'' * 

He must have a very narrow mind or unchari- 
table heart, who cannot give poor human nature 
credit for the sincere adoption of the most oppo- 
site opinions. Still there are limits to this exer- 
cise of charity ; there may be such a concurrence 
of suspicious symptoms, that our charity can be 
exercised only at the expense of common sense. 
TVe can easily conceive, under ordinary circum- 
stances. Dissenters becoming Churchmen, and 
Churchmen becoming Dissenters ; Tories and 
Whigs changing sides ; Protestants and Roman- 

* Th& Rehearsal Transprosed, vol. i. pp. 97, 98, 99, 100, 101. 



XXVlll NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

ists, like those two brothers mentioned in Locke's 
second " Letters on Toleration," * so expert in 
logic as to convert one another, and then, unhap- 
pily, not expert enough to convert one another 
back again — and all without any suspicion of in- 
sincerity. But when we find very great revolu- 
tions of opinion, at the same time very sudden, 
and exquisitely well-timed in relation to private 
interest ; — when we find these changes, let them 
be what they may, always, like those of the helio- 
trope, towards the sun; — when we find a man 
utterly uncharitable even to his own previous 
errors, and maligning and abusing all who still 
retain them, it is impossible to doubt the motives 
which have animated him. On this subject. Mar- 
veil himself well observes — " Though a man be 
obliged to change a hundred times backward and 
forward, if his judgment be so weak and variable, 
yet there are some drudgeries that no man of 
honour would put himself upon, and but few sub- 
mit to if they were imposed; as, suppose one 
had thought fit to pass over from one persuasion 
of the Christian religion into another, he would 
not choose to spit thrice at every article that he 
relinquished, to curse solemnly his father and 
mother for having educated him in those opinions, 
to animate his new acquaintances to the mas- 
sacring of his former comrades. These are busi- 

* Locke's Works, vol. v. p. 79. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXIX 

nesses that can only be expected from a renegade 
of Algiers and Tunis — to overdo in expiation, 
and gain better credence of being a sincere Mus- 
sulman."* 

Marvell gives an amusing account of the pro- 
gress of Parker's conversion — of the transforma- 
tion by which the maggot became a carrion-fly. 
In the second part of the Rehearsal, after a humor- 
ous description of his parentage and youth, he 
tells us that at the Eestoration '' he came to Lon- 
don, where he spent a considerable time in creep- 
ing into all corners and companies, horoscoping 
up and down " (" astrologizing " as he elsewhere 
expresses it) " concerning the duration of the 
government ; — -not considering any thing as best, 
but as most lasting, and most profitable. And 
after having many times cast a figure, he at last 
satisfied himself that the Episcopal government 
would endure as long as this king lived, and from 
thenceforward cast about how to be admitted into 
the Church of England, and find the highway to 
her preferments. In order to this, he daily en- 
larged not only his conversation but his con- 
science, and was made free of some of the town 
vices : imagining, like Muleasses, King of Tunis, 
(for I take witness that on all occasions I treat 
him rather above his quality than otherwise,) 
that, by hiding himself among the onions, he 

* Rehearsal Transprosed, vol. i. pp. 91, 92. 



XXX NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

should escape being traced by bis perfumes."* 
Marvell sketches the early history and character 
of Parker in both parts of the Rehearsal — though, 
as might be expected, with greater severity in the 
second than in the first. A few ludicrous sen- 
tences may not displease the reader. He says : — 

" This gentleman, as I have heard, after he had read 
Don Quixote and the Bible, besides such school-books 
as were necessary for his age, was sent early to the 
university ; and there studied hard, and in a short time 
became a competent rhetorician, and no ill disputant. 
He had learned how to erect a thesis, and to defend it 

pro and con with a serviceable distinction 

And so, thinking himself now ripe and qualified for 
the greatest undertakings and highest fortune, he 
therefore exchanged the narrowness of the university 
for the town ; but coming out of the confinement of 
the square cap and the quadrangle into the open air, 
the world began to turn round with him, which he 
imagined, though it were his own giddiness, to be 
nothing less than the quadrature of the circle. This 
accident concurring so happily to increase the good 
opinion which he naturally had of himself, he thence- 
forward applied to gain a like reputation with others. 
He followed the town life, haunted the best companies ; 
and, to polish himself from any pedantic roughness, 
he read and saw the plays with much care, and more 
proficiency than most of the auditory. But all this 
while he forgot not the main chance ; but hearing of a 
vacancy with a nobleman, he clapjDcd in, and easily 

* Eehearsal T rcimj>rosed, vol. ii. pp. 77, 78. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXXI 

obtained to be his chaplain ; from that day you may 
take the date of his preferments and his ruin; for 
having soon wrought himself dexterously into his pa- 
tron's favour, by short graces and sermons, and a 
mimical way of drolling upon the Puritans, which he 
knew would take both at chapel and at table, he gained 
a great authority likewise among all the domestics. 
They all listened to him as an oracle ; and they 
allowed him, by common consent, to have not only aU 
the di\inity, but more wit, too, than all the rest of the 

family put together Nothing now must 

serve him, but he must be a madman in print, and 
write a book of Ecclesiastical Polity. There he distri- 
butes all the territories of conscience into the Prince's 
province, and makes the Hierarchy to be but Bishops 
of the air ; and talks at such an extravagant rate in 
things of higher concernment, that the reader will 
avow that in the whole discourse he had not one lucid 
interval." * 

The work here mentioned, his Ecclesiastical 
Polity, was published in the year 1670. But the 
book which called forth Marvell, was a Preface 
to a posthumous work of Archbishop Bramhall's, 
which appeared in 1672. In this piece Parker 
had displayed his usual zeal against the Non- 
conformists with more than usual acrimony, and 
pushed to the uttermost extravagance his fa- 
vourite maxims of ecclesiastical tyranny. Like 
his previous w^orks on similar matters, it was 
anonymous, though the author was pretty well 

* Rehearsal Transprosed^ vol. i. pp. 62-69. 



XXXll NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

known. Marvell dubs him *' Mr. Bayes," under 
which name the Duke of Buckingham had ridi- 
culed Dryden in the well-known play of the 
Rehearsal ; from the title of which Marvell de- 
signated his book, The Rehearsal Transprosed. 

The success of the Rehearsal was instant and 
signal. " After Parker had for some years en- 
tertained the nation with several virulent books." 
says Burnet, " he was attacked by the liveliest 
droll of the age, who wrote in a burlesque strain, 
but with so peculiar and entertaining a conduct, 
that, from the King down to the tradesman, his 
books were read with great pleasure ; that not 
only humbled Parker, but the wdiole party ; for 
the author of the Rehearsal Transprosed had all 
the men of w^it (or, as the French phrase it, all 
the laughers) on his side." 

In fact, Marvell exhibited his adversary in so 
ridiculous a light, that even his own party could 
not keep their countenances. The unhappy 
churchman resembled Gulliver at the court of 
Brobdignag, when the mischievous page stuck 
him into the marrow-bone. He cut such a ridi- 
culous figure, that, says the author, even the 
King and his courtiers could not help laughing 
at him. 

The first part of the Rehearsal elicited several 
answers. They were written, for the most part, 
in very unsuccessful imitation of Marvell's style 
of banter, and are now wholly forgotten. Mar- 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXXlll 

veil gives an amusing account of the efforts which; 
were made to obtain effective replies, and of the 
hopes of preferment which may be supposed to 
have inspired their authors. Parker himself for 
some time declined any reply. At last came out 
his Reproof to the Rehearsal Transprosed, in which 
he urged the Government to crush the pestilent 
wit, the servant of Cromwell, and the friend of 
Milton." To this work Marvell replied in the 
second part of the Rehearsal. He was further 
spirited to it by an anonymous letter, pleasant 
and laconic enough, left for him at a friend's house, 
signed " T. G." and concluding with the words — 
" If thou darest to print any lie or libel against 
Dr. Parker, by the eternal God, I will cut thy 
throat ! " He who wrote it, whoever he was, 
was ignorant of Marvell's nature, if he thought 
thereby to intimidate him into silence. His intre- 
pid spirit was but further provoked by this inso- 
lent threat, which he took care to publish in the 
title-page of his reply. To this publication Par- 
ker attempted no rejoinder. Anthony Wood him- 
self tells us, that Parker "judged it more prudent 
to lay down the cudgels, than to enter the lists 
again with an untowardly combatant, so hugely 
well versed and experienced in the then but newly 
refined art ; though much in mode and fashion 
ever since, of sporting and jeering buffoonery. 
It was generally thought, however, by many of 
those who were otherwise favourers of Parker's 
c 



XXXIV NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

cause, that the victory lay on Marvell's side, and 
it wrought this good effect on Parker, that forever 
after it took down his great spirit." And Burnet 
tells us, that he " withdrew from the town, and 
ceased writing for some years." 

Of this greatest work of Marvell's singular 
genius it is difficult, even if we had space for it, 
to present the reader w^ith any considerable ex- 
tracts. The allusions are often so obscure — the 
wit of one page is so dependent on that of an- 
other — the humour and pleasantry are so continu- 
ous — and the character of the work, from its very 
nature, is so excursive, that its merits can be 
fully appreciated only on a regular perusal. We 
regret to say, also, that there are other reasons 
which render any very lengthened citations un- 
desirable. The work has faults which would, in 
innumerable cases, disguise its real merit from 
modern readers, or rather deter them from giving 
it a reading altogether. It is characterized by 
much of the coarseness which was so prevalent 
in that age, and from which Mar veil was by no 
means free ; though, as we shall endeavour here- 
after to show, his spirit was far from partaking 
of the malevolence of ordinary satirists. 

Yet the reader must not infer that the only, or 
even the chief, merit of the Rehearsal Transprosed 
consists in wit and banter. Not only is there 
amidst all its ludicrous levities, "a vehemence of 
solemn reproof, and an eloquence of invective, that 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXXV 

awes one with the spirit of a modern Junius;"* 
but there are many passages of very powerful 
reasoning, in advocacy of truths then but ill under- 
stood, and of rights which had been shamefully 
violated. 

Perhaps the most interesting passages of the 
work are those in which Marvell refers to his 
great friend, John Milton. Parker, ^vith his cus- 
tomary malignity, had insinuated that the poet, 
who was then living in cautious retirement, might 
have been the author of the Rehearsal — appa- 
rently with the view of turning the indignation 
of government upon the illustrious recluse. Mar- 
vell had always entertained towards Milton a 
feeling of reverence akin to idolatry, and this 
stroke of deliberate malice was more than he 
could bear. He generously hastened to throw his 
shield over his aged and prostrate patron. 

" J. M. was, and is, a man of great learning and 
sharpness of wit as any man. It was his misfortune, 
living in a tumultuous time, to be tossed on the wrong 
side, and he writ, flagrante Bella, certain dangerous 
treatises of no other nature than that which I men- 
tioned to you writ by your own father, only with this 
difference, that your father's, which I have by me, was 
written with the same design, but with much less wit 
or judgment. At his Majesty's happy return, J. M. 
did partake, even as you yourself did, of his regal 
clemency, and has ever since lived in a most retired 

* D'Israeli. 



XXXVl NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

silence. It Avas after that, I well remember it, that 
being one day at his house, I there first met you ac- 
cidentally. But there it was, when you, as I told you, 
wandered up and down Moorfields, astrologizing on 
the duration of his Majesty's government, that you 
frequented J. M. incessantly, and haunted his house 
day by day. What discourses you there used he is 
too generous to remember." 

About three years after the publication of the 
second part of the Rehearsal, Marvell's chival- 
rous love of justice impelled him again to draw 
the sword. In 1675, Dr. Croft, Bishop of Here- 
ford, had published a work entitled " The Naked 
Truth, or the true state of the Primitive Church, 
by a humble Moderator." It enjoined on all 
religious parties the unwelcome duties of forbear- 
ance and charity ; but as it especially exposed 
the danger and folly of enforcing a minute uni- 
formity, it could not be suffered to pass unchal- 
lenged in that age of high church intolerance. It 
was petulantly attacked by Dr. Francis Turner, 
Master of St. John's College, Cambridge, in a 
pamphlet entitled " Animadversions on the Naked 
Truth." This provoked our satirist, who replied 
in a pamphlet entitled, "Mr. Smirke, or the 
Divine in Mode." He here fits his antagonist 
with a character out of Etherege's "Man of 
Mode " — as he had before fitted Parker with one 
from Buckingham's "Rehearsal." The merits 
and defects of this pamphlet are of much the 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. XXXVll 

same order as those of his former work — it is 
perhaps less disfigured by coarseness and vehe- 
mence. Of Dr. Croft's pamphlet, he beautifully 
expresses a feeling, of which we imagine few of 
us can have been unconscious when perusing any 
work which strongly appeals to our reason and 
conscience, and in which, as we proceed, we seem 
to recognize what we have often thought, but 
never uttered. " It is a book of that kind, that 
no Christian can peruse it without wishing him- 
self to have been the author, and almost imagin- 
ing that he is so; the conceptions therein being 
of so eternal an idea, that every man finds it to 
be but a copy of the original in his own mind." 

To this little brochure was attached, "A Short 
Historical Essay concerning General Councils, 
Creeds, and Impositions in matters of Religion." 
It is characterized by the same strong sense and 
untiring vivacity as his other writings, and evinces 
a creditable acquaintance with ecclesiastical his- 
tory ; but it is neither copious nor profound 
enough for the subject. 

In 1677, Marvell published his last contro- 
versial piece, ehcited like the rest by his disinte- 
rested love of fair play. It was a defence of the 
celebrated divine, John Howe, whose conciliatory 
tract on the " Divine Prescience " had been rudely 
assailed by three several antagonists. This little 
volume, which is throughout in Marvell's vein, is 
now extremely scarce, is not included in any edi- 



XXXVlll NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

tion of his works, and was evidently unknown to 
all his biographers. 

His last work of any extent was entitled "An 
Account of the Growth of Pof)ery and Arbitrary 
Government in England." It first aj^peared in 
1678. It is written with much vigour — boldly 
vindicates the great principles of the constitu- 
tion — and discusses the limits of the royal pre- 
rogative. The gloomy anticipations expressed 
by the author were but too well justified by the 
pubhc events which transpired subsequently to 
his death. But the fatal consequences of the 
principles and policy he denounced, were happily 
averted by the Revolution of 1688. 

A reward was offered by the government for 
the discovery of the author of this " libel," as it 
was pleasantly designated. Marvell seems to 
have taken the matter very coolly, and thus hu- 
morously alludes to the subject in a private letter 
to Mr. Ramsden, dated June 10, 1678— "There 
came out about Christmas last, here, a large book 
concerning the growth of Popery and Arbitrary 
Government. There have been great rewards 
offered in private, and considerable in the Gazette, 
to any one who could inform of the author or 
printer, but not yet discovered. Three or four 
printed books since have described, as near as it 
was proper to go (the man being a member of 
Parliament) Mr. Marvell to have been the 
author ; but, if he had, surely he should not have 



NOTICE OF THE AUTIIOPw. XXXIX 

escaped being questioned in Parliament, or some 
other place." 

Marvell also published, during the latter years 
of his life, several other political pamphlets, which, 
though now forgotten, were doubtless not without 
their influence in unmasking corruption, and rous- 
ing the nation to a consciousness of its political 
degradation. 

Marvell's intrepid patriotism and bold writings 
had now made him so odious to the corrupt court, 
and especially to the bigoted heir presumptive, 
James, that he was compelled frequently to con- 
ceal himself for fear of assassination. He makes 
an affecting allusion to this in one of his private 
letters — " Magis occidere" says he, " metuo quam 
occidi ; non quod vitam tanti cestimam, sed ne 
imparatus moriar.'' * 

He died August 16, 1678, the very year that 
his obnoxious work on the growth of Popery and 
Arbitrary Government appeared ; and, as he was 
in vigorous health just before, strong suspicions 
were entertained that he had been poisoned. 

In person, according to the description of 
Aubrey, who knew him well, Marvell " was of a 
middling stature, pretty strong set, roundish-fticed, 
cherry-cheeked, hazel-eyed, brown-haired. In his 
conversation he was modest, and of very few 
words. He was wont to say, he would not drink 
high or freely with any one with whom he could 
not trust his life." 

* Cooke's Life of Marvell, prefixed to his Poems, p.- 14. 



Xl NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

Of the editions of Marvell's collected works, 
that of 1726, in two volumes duodecimo, contains 
only his poems and some of his private letters. 
That of Captain Thompson, in three volumes 
quarto, was published in 1776. Yet even this, 
as already said, omits one treatise. The Captain's 
diligence is indeed worthy of commendation, and 
his enthusiasm may be pardoned. But he was 
far from being a correct or judicious editor ; and 
is often betrayed by his indiscriminate admiration 
into excessive and preposterous eulogy. The 
only separate biography is, we believe, that of 
John Dove. 

The characteristic attribute of Marvell's genius 
was unquestionably wit, in all the varieties of 
which — brief sententious sarcasm, fierce invective, 
light raillery, grave irony, and broad laughing 
humour-^he seems to have been by nature almost 
equally fitted to excel. To say that he has equally 
excelled in all would be untrue, though striking 
examples of each might easily be selected from 
his writings. The activity with which his mind 
suggests ludicrous images and analogies is asto- 
nishing ; he often absolutely startles us by the 
remoteness and oddity of the sources from wliich 
they are supplied, and by the unexpected inge- 
nuity and felicity of his repartees.* 

* In this respect lie constantly reminds one of Butler, and 
in proof of his literary catholicity, we quote the following 
from the Rehearsal Transprosed. " But lest I might be mis- 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. xH 

His ybr^e, however, appears to be a grave ironi- 
cal banter, which he often pursues at such a length 
that there seems no limit to his fertility of inven- 
tion. In his endless accumulation of ludicrous 
ima'^es and allusions, the untirinu; exhaustive ridi- 
cule with which he will play upon the same topics, 
he is unique ; yet this peculiarity not seldom 
leads him to drain the generous wine even to the 
dregs — to spoil a series of felicitous railleries by 
some far-fetched conceit or unpardonable extra- 
vagance. 

But though Mar veil was so great a master of 
wit, and especially of that caustic species which 
is appropriate to satirists, we will venture to say 
that he was singularly free from many of the 
faults which distinguish that irritable brotherhood. 
Unsparing and merciless as his ridicule is, con- 
temptuous and ludicrous as are the lights in which 
he exhibits his opponent ; nay, further, though 
his invectives are not only often terribly severe, 
but (in compliance with the spirit of the age) 
often grossly coarse and personal, it is still im- 
possible to detect a single particle of malignity. 
His general tone is that of broad laughing banter, 

taken as to the persons I mention, I will assure the reader 
that I intend not Hudibras ; for he is a man of the other robe, 
and his excellent wit hath taken a flight far above these 
whifflers; that whoever dislikes his subject cannot but com- 
mend his performance of it, and calculate if on so barren a 
theme he were 30 copious, what admirable sport he would 
have made of an ecclesiastical politician." Ed. 



Xlii NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

or of the most cutting invective ; but he appears 
equally devoid of malevolence in both. In the 
one, he seems amusing himself with opponents 
too contemptible to move his anger ; in the other, 
to lay on with the stern imperturbable gravity of 
one who is performing the unpleasant but neces- 
sary functions of a public executioner. This 
freedom from the usual faults of satirists may be 
traced to several causes ; partly to the honhommie 
which, with all his talents for satire, was a pecu- 
liar characteristic of the man, and which rendered 
him as little disposed to take offence, and as pla- 
cable when it was offered, as any man of his time ; 
partly to the integrity of his nature, which, while 
it prompted him to champion any cause in which 
justice had been outraged or innocence wronged, 
effectually preserved him from the wanton exer- 
cise of his wit for the gratification of malevo- 
lence ; partly, perhaps principally, to the fact, 
that both the above qualities restricted him to 
encounters in which he had personally no con- 
cern. If he carried a keen sword, it was a most 
peaceable and gentlemanly weapon ; it never left 
the scabbard except on the highest provocation, 
and even then, only on behalf of others. His 
magnanimity, self-control, and good temper, re- 
strained him from avenging any insult offered to 
himself; — his chivalrous love of justice instantly 
roused all the lion within him on behalf of the 
injured and oppressed. It is perhaps well for 



XOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. xliii 

Marvell's fiime that bis quarrels were not per- 
sonal : had they been so, it is hardly probable 
that such powers of sarcasm and irony should 
have been so little associated with bitterness of 
temper. 

We must not quit the subject of his wit, with- 
out presenting the reader with some few of his 
pleasantries : premising that they. form but a very 
small part of those which we had marked in the 
perusal of his works ; and that, whatever their 
merit, it were easy to find others far superior to 
them, if we could afford space for long citations. 

Of the invention of printing, he writes in the 
following cutting train of irony : — 

' The press, (that villanous engine,) invented much 
about the same time with the Keformation, hath done 
more mischief to the discipline of our Church than the 
doctrine can make amends for. It was a happy time, 
when all learning was in manuscript, and some little 
officer, like our author, did keep the keys of the 
library : AYhen the clergy needed no more knowledge 
than to read the liturgy, and the laity no more clerk- 
ship than to save them from hanging. But now, since 
printing came into the world, such is the mischief, that 
a man cannot write a book, but presently he is an- 
swered. Could the press but at once be conjured to 
obey only an imprimatur, our- author might not dis- 
daine, perhaps, to be one of its most zealous patrons. 
There have been wayes found out to banish ministers, 
to find not only the people, but even the grounds and 
fields where they assembled, in conventicles ; but no 



Xliv NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

art yet could prevent tliese seditious meetings of let- 
ters. Two or three brawny fellows in a corner, with 
meer ink and elbow-grease, do more harm than a 
hundred systematical divines, with their sweaty preach- 
ing. And, what is a strange thing, the very spunges, 
which one would think should rather deface and blot 
out the whole book, and were anciently used for that 
purpose, are become now the instruments to make 
them legible. Their ugly printing letters look but 
like so many rotten teeth, how oft have they been 
pulled out by B. &. L. the public tooth drawers ; and 
yet these rascally operators of the press have got 
a trick to fasten them again in a few minutes, that 
they grow as firm a set, and as biting and talkative as 
ever. O, printing ! how hast thou disturbed the 
peace of mankind ! — that lead, when moulded into 
bullets, is not so mortal as when formed into letters ! 
There was a mistake, sure, in the story of Cadmus ; 
and the serpent's teeth which he sowed were nothing 
else but the letters which he invented. The first essay 
that was made towards this art, was in single charac- 
ters upon iron, wherewith, of old, they stigmatized 
slaves and remarkable offender?; and it was of good 
use, sometimes, to brand a schismatic ; but a bulky 
Dutchman diverted it quite from its first institution, 
and contriving those innumerable syntagmes of alpha- 
bets, hath pestered the world ever since, with the 
gross bodies of their German divinity. One would 
have thought in reason, that a Dutchman might have 
contented liimself only with the wine-press." 

The following passage from " Mr. Smirke, or 
the Divine in Mode," would be enough to show 



NOTICE OF THE AUTIIOK. xlv 

even without any acknowledgment on his own 
part, that Swift studied and profited by the prose 
of Marvell. 

" And from hence it proceeds, that, to the no small 
scandal and disreputation of our church, a great arca- 
num of their state hath been discovered and divulged ; 
that, albeit wit be not inconsistent and incompatible 
with a clergyman, yet neither is it inseparable from 
them. So that it is of concernment to my Lords the 
Bishops henceforward to repress those of them who 
have no wit from writing, and to take care that even 
those that have, do husband it better, as not knowing 
to what exigency they may be reduced ; but how- 
ever, that they the Bishops be not too forward in 
licensing and prefixing their venerable names to such 
pamphlets. For admitting, though 1 am not too posi- 
tive in it, that our episcopacy is of apostolical right, yet 
we do not find, among all those gifts there given to 
men, that Wit is enumerated ; nor yet among those 
qualifications requisite to a Bishop. And therefore 
should they, out of complacency for an author, or de- 
light in the argument, or facility of their judgments, 
approve of a dull book, their own understandings will 
be answerable, and irreverent people, that cannot dis- 
tinguish, will be ready to think that such of them differ 
from men of wit, not only in degree, but in order. 
For all are not of my mind, who could never see any 
one elevated to that dignity, but I presently conceived 
a greater opinion of his wit than ever I had formerly. 
But some do not stick to afiirm, that even they, the 
Bishops, come by theirs, not by inspiration, not by 
teaching, but even as the poor laity do sometimes 



xlvi NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

liglit upon it, — by a good motliei\ Which has occa- 
sioned the homely Scotch proverb, that " an ounce of 
mother wit is worth a pound of clergy." And as they 
come by it as do other men, so they possess it on 
the same condition : that they cannot transmit it by 
breathing, touching, or any natural effluvium, to other 
persons ; not so much as to their most domestick chap- 
lains, or to the closest residentiary. That the King 
himself, who is no less the spring of that, than he is the 
fountain of honour, yet has never used the dubbing or 
creating of wits as a flower of his prerogative ; much 
less can the ecclesiastical power conferre it with the 
same ease as they do the holy orders. That whatso- 
ever they can do of that kind is, at uttermost, to im- 
power men by their authority and commission, no 
otherwise than in the licensing of midwives or physi- 
cians. But that as to their collating of any internal 
talent or ability, they could never pretend to it ; their 
grants and their prohibitions are alike invalid, and 
they can neither capacitate one man to be witty, nor 
hinder another from being so, further than as they 
press it at their devotion. Which, if it be the case, 
they cannot be too exquisite, seeing this way of writing 
is found so necessary, in making choice of fit instru- 
ments. The Church's credit is more interested in an 
ecclesiastical droll, than in a lay chancellor. It is no 
small trust that is reposed in him to whom the Bishop 
shall commit omne et omni modo suum ingenium, tarn 
temporale quam spirituale ; and, however it goes with 
excommunication, they should take good heed to what 
manner of person they delegate the keys of laughter. 
It is not every man that is qualified to sustain the 
dignity of the Church's jester, and, should they take 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. xlvii 

as exact a scrutiny of them as of the Nonconformists 
through their dioceses, the numbers would appear 
inconsiderable upon this Easter visitation. Before 
men be admitted to so important an employment, it 
were fit they underwent a severe examination; and 
that it might appear, first, whether they have any 
sense ; for without that, how can any man pretend — and 
yet they do — to be ingenious ? Then, whether they 
have any modesty ; for without that they can only be 
scurrilous and impudent. Next, whether any truth ; 
for true jests are those that do the greatest execution. 
And lastly, it were not amiss that they gave some 
account, too, of their Christianity ; for the world has 
hitherto been so uncivil as to expect something of that 
from the clergy, in the design and style even of their 
lightest and most uncanonical writings." 

Marvell's learning must have been very exten- 
sive. His education was superior; and as we 
have seen from the testimony of Milton, his indus- 
try had made him master, during his long sojourn 
on the Continent, of several continental languages. 
It is certain also, that he continued to be a stu- 
dent all his days : his w^orks bear ample evidence 
of his wide and miscellaneous reading. He ap- 
pears to have been well versed in most branches 
of literature, though he makes no pedantic dis- 
play of erudition, and in this respect is favourably 
distinguished from many of his contemporaries; 
yet he cites his authors with the familiarity of a 
thorough scholar. In the department of history 
he appears to have been particularly well read ; 



xlviii NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

and derives his witty illustrations from such re- 
mote and obscure sources, that Parker did not 
hesitate to avow his belief that he had sometimes 
drawn on his invention for them. In his Reply, 
Marvell justifies himself in all the alleged in- 
stances, and takes occasion to show that his oppo- 
nent's learning is as hollow as all his other pre- 
tensions. 

Numerous examples show, that it is almost 
impossible for even the rarest talents to confer 
permanent popularity on books which turn on 
topics of temporary interest, however absorbing 
at the time. If Pascal's transcendent genius has 
been unable to rescue even the Letters Provin- 
ciales from partial oblivion, it is not to be expected 
that Marvell should have done more for the Re- 
hearsdl Transprosed. Swift, it is true, about half 
a century later, has been pleased, while express- 
ing this opinion, to make an exception in favour 
of Marvell. "There is indeed," says he, "an 
exception, when any great genius thinks it worth 
his while to expose a foolish piece : so we still 
read Marvell's answer to Parker with pleasure, 
though the book it answers be sunk long ago." 
But this statement is scarcely applicable now. It 
is true that the " Rehearsal " is occasionally read 
by the curious ; but it is by the resolutely curious 
alone. 

But admirable as were Marvell's intellectual 
endowments, it is his moral worth, after all, which 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. xlXlX 

constitutes his principal claim on the admiration 
of posterity, and which sheds a redeeming lustre 
on one of the darkest pages of the English annals. 
Inflexible integrity was the basis of it — integrity 
by which he has not unworthily earned the glo- 
rious name of the " British Aristides." With 
talents and acquirements which- might have justi- 
fied him in aspiring to almost any office, if he 
could have disburdened himself of his conscience ; 
with wit which, in that frivolous age, was a surer 
passport to fame than any amount either of intel- 
lect or virtue, and which, as we have seen, molli- 
fied even the monarcli himself in spite of his 
prejudices ; Marvell preferred poverty and inde- 
pendence to riches and servility. He had learned 
the lesson, practised by few in that age, of being 
content with little — so that he preserved his con- 
science. He could be poor, but he could not be 
mean ; could starve, but could not cringe. By 
economizing in the articles of pride and ambition, 
he could afford to keep what their votaries were 
compelled to retrench, the necessaries, or rather 
the luxuries, of integrity, and a good conscience. 
Neither menaces, nor caresses, nor bribes, nor 
poverty, nor distress, could induce him to abandon 
his integrity ; or even to take an office in which 
it might be tempted or endangered. He only who 
has arrived at this pitch of magnanimity, has an 
adequate security for his public virtue. He who 
cannot subsist upon a little ; who has not learned 
d 



1 NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. 

to be content with such things as he has, and even 
to be content with almost nothing ; who has not 
learned to familiarize his thoughts to poverty, 
much more readily than he can familiarize them 
to dishonour, is not yet free from peril. Andrew 
Marvell, as his whole course proves, had done 
this. But we shall not do full justice to his public 
integrity, if we do not bear in mind the corruption 
of the age in which he lived; the manifold apos- 
tasies amidst which he retained his conscience ; 
and the effect which such wide -spread profligacy 
must have had in making thousands almost scep- 
tical as to whether there were such a thing as 
public virtue at all. Such a relaxation in the 
code of speculative morals, is one of the worst 
results of general profligacy in practice. But 
Andrew Marvell was not to be deluded ; and 
amidst corruption perfectly unparalleled, he still 
continued untainted. We are accustomed to hear 
of his virtue as a truly Roman virtue, and so it 
was ; but it was something more. Only the best 
pages of Roman history can supply a parallel : 
there was no Cincinnatus in those ages of her 
shame which alone can be compared with those 
of Charles II. It were easier to find a Cincinna- 
tus during the era of the English Commonwealth, 
than an Andrew Marvell in the age of Comrao- 
dus. 

The integrity and patriotism which distin- 
guished him in his relations to the Court, also 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. \l 

marked all his public conduct. He was evidently 
most scrupulously honest and faithful in the dis- 
charge of his duty to his constituents ; and, as we 
have seen, almost punctilious in guarding against 
any thing which could tarnish his fair fame, or 
defile his conscience. On reviewing the whole 
of his public conduct, we may well say that he 
attained his wish, expressed in the lines which 
he has written in imitation of a chorus in the 
Thyestes of Seneca : — 

" Climb at court for me that will — 
Tottering favour's pinnacle; 
All I seek is to lie still. 
Settled in some secret nest, 
In calm leisure let me rest. 
And far off the public stage,"* 
Pass away my silent age. 

Thus, when without noise, unknown, 

1 have lived out all my span, 
I shall die without a groan. 

An old honest countryman." 

He seems to have been as amiable in his pri- 
vate as he was estimable in his public character. 
So far as any documents throw light upon the 
subject, the same integrity appears to have be- 
longed to both. He is described as of a very 
reserved and quiet temper; but, like Addison 
(whom lA this respect as in some few others he 
resembled,) exceedingly facetious and lively 
amongst his intimate friends. His disinterested 



Hi NOTICE OP THE AUTHOR. 

championship of others is no less a proof of his 
sympathy with the oppressed than of his abhor- 
rence of oppression ; and many pleasing traits of 
amiability occur in his private correspondence as 
well as in his writings. On the whole, we think 
that Marvell's epitaph, strong as the terms of 
panegyric are, records little more than the truth ; 
and that it was not in the vain spirit of boasting, 
but in the honest consciousness of virtue and in- 
tegrity, that he himself concludes a letter to one 
of his correspondents in the words — 

" Disce, puer, virtutem ex me, verumque laborem ; 
Fortuiiam ex aliis." 



*^* The foregoing notice of Marvell (which is, 
on the whole, the best in print,) has been taken 
from the Edinburgh Review, and is said to have 
been written by Mr. H«enry Rogers.* The editor 
has shortened it by some omissions, and has added 
a few notes. He has also given fuller extracts 
from Marvell's prose. 

There has been no edition of Marvell's poems 
since 1776, and that seems to have retained the 
blunders of the three previous editions, beside 
adding a few of its own. If it were possible to 
reverse the author's meaning by any ingenuity 
of punctuation, the occasion seems never to have 
been neglected. In the present edition, all the 

* Poole's Index to Periodical Literature. 



NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR. liii 

more apparent errors have been corrected, and 
some advance made toward a pure text. The 
poems were never published, or at any rate, col- 
lected, by the author himself. 

The intellect of Marvell was a remarkably 
compact and sincere one, and his habitual charac- 
ter was that of prudence and uprightness. But 
whenever he surrendered himself to his tempera- 
ment, his mind sought relief in wit, so sportful 
and airy, yet at the same time so recondite, that 
it is hard to find anywhere an instance in which 
the Court, the Tavern, and the Scholar's Study 
are blended with such Corinthian justness of 
measure. Nowhere is there so happy an exam- 
ple of the truth that wit and fancy are different 
operations of the same principle. The wit is 
so spontaneous and so interfused with feeling, 
that we can scarce distinguish it from fancy ; 
and the fancy brings together analogies so remote 
that they give us the pleasurable shock of wit. 
Now and then, in his poems, he touches a deeper 
vein, but shuns instinctively the labour of laying 
it open, and escapes gleefully into the more con- 
genial sunshine. His mind presents the rare 
combination of wit with the moral sense, by which 
the one is rescued from scepticism and the other 
from prosing. His poems form the synthesis of 
Donne and Butler. 



POEMS 



SEVERAL OCCASIONS, 



POEMS. 



UPON THE HILL AND GROVE AT BILL- 
BOROW. 

TO THE LORD FAIRFAX. 

See how the arched earth does here 

Rise in a perfect hemisphere ! 

The stiffest compass could not strike 

A line more circular and like, 

Nor softest pencil draw a brow 

So equal as this hill does bow ; 

It seems as for a model laid, 

And that the world by it was made. 

Here learn, ye mountains more unjust, 

Which to abrupter greatness thrust, 

Which do, with your hook-shoulder'd height, 

The earth deform, and heaven fright, 

For whose excrescence, ill design'd. 

Nature must a new centre find, 

Learn here those humble steps to tread. 

Which to securer glory lead. 




THE POEMS. 

See what a soft access, and wide, 

Lies open to its grassy side. 

Nor with the rugged path deters 

The feet of breathless travellers ; 

See then how courteous it ascends, 

And all the way it rises, bends, 

Nor for itself the height does gain, 

But only strives to raise the plain, 

Yet thus it all the field commands, 

And in unenvy'd greatness stands. 

Discerning farther than the cliff 

Of heaven-daring Teneriff. 

How glad the weary seamen haste, 

When they salute it from the mast ! 

By night, the northern star their way 

Directs, and this no less by day. 

Upon its crest, this mountain grave, 

A plume of aged trees does wave. 

No hostile hand does e'er invade, 

With impious steel, the sacred shade ; 

For something always did appear 

Of the Great Master's terror there. 

And men could hear his armour still, 

Rattling through all the grove and hill. 

Fear of the Master, and respect 

Of the great nymph, did it protect. 

Vera, the nymph, that him inspired. 

To whom he often here retir'd. 

And on these oaks engmv'd her name, — 

Such wounds alone these woods became,- 



OF MARVEL L. i 

But ere he well the harks could part, 

'Twas writ already in their heart ; 

For they, 'tis credible, have sense, 

As we, of love and reverence, 

And underneath the coarser rind, 

The genius of the house do bind. I 

Hence they successes seem to know,r 

And in their Lord's advancement grow, 

But in no memory were seen, I 

As under this, so straight and green ; / 

Yet now no farther strive to shoot, 

Contented, if they fix their root. 

Nor to the wind's uncertain gust. 

Their prudent heads too far intrust. 

Only sometimes a flutt'ring breeze 

Discourses with the breathing trees. 

Which in their modest whispers name 

Those acts which swell'd the cheeks of Fame. 

" Much other groves," say they, " than these, 

" And other hills, him once did please. 

" Through groves of pikes he thunder'd then, 

" And mountains rais'd of dying men. 

" For all the civic garlands due 

" To him, our branches are but few ; 

" Nor are our trunks enough to bear 

" The trophies of one fertile year." 

'Tis true, ye trees, nor ever spoke 

More certain oracles in oak ; 

But peace, if you his favour prize ! 

That courage its own praises flies : 



THE rOEMS 



Therefore to your obscurer feats, 
From his own brightness he retreats ; 
Nor he the hills, without the groves, 
Nor height, but with retirement, loves. 



OF MARVELL. 



APPLETON HOUSE* 



TO THE LORD FAIRFAX. 



Within this sober frame expect 

Work of no foreign architect, 

That unto caves the quarries drew, 

And forests did to pastures hew ; 

Who, of his great design in pain, s 

Did for a model vault his brain ; 

Whose columns should so high be rais'd, 

To arch the brows which on them gaz'd. 

Why should, of all things, man, unrul'd. 

Such unproportion'd dwellings build ? lo 

The beasts are by their dens express'd. 

And birds contrive an equal nest ; 

The low-roof 'd tortoises do dwell 

In cases fit of tortoise-shell ; 

No creature loves an empty space ; 15 

Their bodies measure out their place. 

* A house of the Lord Fahfux, in Yorkshire, now called 
Nun-Appleton. 



8 THE POEMS 

But he, superfluously spread, 

Demands more room alive than dead ; 

And in his hollow palace goes. 

Where winds, as he, themselves may lose. 

What need of all this marble crust, 

To impark the wanton mole of dust, 

That thinks by breadth the world to unite, 

Though the first builders fail'd in height ? 

But all things are composed here, 

Like nature, orderly, and near ; 

In which we the dimensions find 

Of that more sober age and mind, 

When larger-sized men did stoop 

To enter at a narrow loop. 

As practising, in doors so strait, 

To strain themselves through heaven's gate. 

And surely, when the after-age 

Shall hither come in pilgrimage. 

These sacred places to adore. 

By Vere and Fairfax trod before, 

Men will dispute how their extent 

Within such dwarfish confines went. 

And some will smile at this, as well 

As Romulus's bee-like cell. 

Humility alone designs 

Those short but admirable lines. 

By which, ungirt and unconstrain'd. 

Things greater are in less contain'd. 

Let others vainly strive to immure 

The circle in the quadrature ! 



OP MARYELL. 

These holy mathematics can 
In every figure equal man. 
Yet thus the laden house does sweat, 
And scarce endures the master great : 
But, where he comes, the swellmg hall 
Stirs, and the square grows spherical ; 
More by his magnitude distressed. 
Than he is by its straitness pressed : 
And too officiously it sHghts, 
That in itself, which him delights. 
So honour better lowaiess beai's, 
Than that unwonted greatness wears ; 
Height with a certain grace does bend, 
But low things clownishly ascend. 
And yet what need there here excuse, 
Where every thing does answ^er use ? 
Where neatness nothing can condemn, 
Nor pride invent what to contemn ? 
A stately frontispiece of 230or, 
Adorns without the open door ; 
Daily new furniture of friends, 
No less the rooms within commends. 
The house ^Yas built upon the place. 
Only as for a mark of grace, 
And for an inn to entertain 
Its Lord awhile, but not remain. 
Him Bishop's-hill or Denton may, 
Or Bilborow, better hold than they : 
But nature here hath been so free. 
As if she said, ' Leave this to me. 



10 THE POEMS 

Art would more neatly have defac'd 
What she had laid so sweetly waste 
In fragrant gardens, shady woods, 
Deep meadows, and transparent floods. 

While, with slow eyes, we these survey, 
And on each pleasant footstep stay. 
We opportunely may relate 
The progress of this house's fate. 
A nunnery first gave it birth, 
(For virgin buildings oft brought forth,) 
And all that neighbour-ruin shows 
The quarries whence this dwelling rose. 
Near to this gloomy cloister's gates, 
There dwelt the blooming virgin Thwates, 
Fair beyond measure, and an heir. 
Which might deformity make fair ; 
And oft she spent the summer's suns 
Discoursing with the subtle Nuns, 
Whence, in these words, one to her weav'd, 
As 'twere by chance, thoughts long conceiv'd : 
' Within this holy leisure, we 
' Live innocently, as you see. 
' These walls restrain the world without, 
' But hedge our liberty about ; 
' These bars inclose that wider den 
' Of those wild creatures, called men ; 
' The cloister outward shuts its gates, 
' And, from us, locks on them the grates. 
< Here we, in shining armour white, 



OF MARVELL. 11 

' Like virgin amazons do ^ght, 
' And our chaste lamps we hourly trim, 
' Lest the great bridegroom find them dim. 
' Our orient breaths perfumed are 

• With incense of incessant pray'r ; no 
' And holy-water of our tears 

' Most strangely our complexion clears ; 

' Not tears of grief, — but such as those 

' With which calm pleasure overflows, 

' Or pity, when we look on you us 

' That live without this happy vow. 

' How should we grieve must we be seen, 

' (Each one a spouse, and each a queen,) 

' Who can in heaven hence behold 

' Our brighter robes and crowns of gold! 120 

' When we have prayed all our beads, 

' Some one the holy legend reads, 

' While all the rest with needles paint 

' The face and graces of the Saint, 

' But what the linen can't receive, 125 

' They in their lives do interweave. 

' This Avork the Saints best represents 

' That serves for altar's ornaments. 

' But much it to our work would add, 

' If here your hand, your face, we had : iso 

' By it we would our Lady touch ; 

' Yet thus she you resembles much. 

' Some of your features, as we sewed, 

' Through every shrine should be bestow'd, 

• And in one beauty we would take 135 



12 THE POEMS 

* Enough a thousand Saints to make. 
' And (for I dare not quench the fire 
^ That me does for your good insph-e) 
' 'Twere sacrilege a man to admit 

' To holy things, for heaven fit. 

' I see the angels, in a crown, 

" On you the lilies showering down ; 

' And round about you, glory breaks, 

' That something more than human speaks. 

' All beaut}^, when at such a heigllt, 

' Is so already consecrate. 

' Fairfax I know, and long ere this 

' Have mark'd the youth, and what he is ; 

' But can he such a rival seem, 

' For whom you heaven should disesteem ? 

' Ah, no ! and 'twould more honour prove 

' He your devoto were than Love. 

* Here live beloved and obeyed, 

' Each one your sister, each your maid, 

' And, if our rule seem strictly penned, 

' The rule itself to you shall bend. 

' Our Abbess, too, now far in age, 

' Doth your succession near presage. 

' How soft the yoke on us would lie, 

' Might such fair hands as yours it tie ! 

' Your voice, the sweetest of the choir, 

' Shall draw heaven nearer, raise us highei", 

' And your example, if our head, 

' Will soon us to perfection lead. 

' Those virtues to us all so dear. 



OF MARVELL. 13 

* Will straight grow sanctity when here ; 

• And that, once sprung, increase so fast, 
' 'Till miracles it work at last. 

' Nor is our order yet so nice, 

' Delight to banish as a vice : 1:0 

' Here Pleasure Piety doth meet, 

' One perfecting the other sweet ; 

' So through the mortal fruit we boil 

'The sugar's uncorrupting oil, 

' And that which perished while we pull, 173 

' Is thus preserved clear and full. 

' For such indeed are all our arts, 

' Still handling Nature's finest parts : 

' Flowers dress the altars ; for the clothes 

' The sea-born amber we compose ; iso 

' Balms for the griev'd we draw ; and pastes 

' We mould as baits for curious tastes. 

' What need is here of man, unless 

' These as sweet sins we should confess ? 

' Each night among us to your side iss 

' Appoint a fresh and virgin bride, 

' Whom, if our Lord at midnight find, 

' Yet neither should be left behind ! 

' Where you may lie as chaste in bed, 

' As pearls together billeted, 19c 

' All night embracing, arm in, arm, 

' Like crystal pure, with cotton warm. 

' But what is this to all the store 

' Of joys you see, and may make more ? 

' Try but awhile, if you be wise : lao 

' The trial neither costs nor ties." 



14 THE POEMS 

Now, Fairfax, seek her promised faith ; 
Religion that dispensed hath 
Which she henceforward does begin ; 
The Nun's smooth tongue has sucked her in. 
Oft, though he knew it was in vain. 
Yet would he valiantlj complain : 
' Is this that sanctity so great, 
' An art by which you finelier cheat ? 
' Hypocrite witches, hence avaunt, 
' Who, though in prison, yet enchant ! 
' Death only can such thieves make fast, 
' As rob, though in the dungeon cast. 
' Were there but, when this house was made, 
' One stone that a just hand had laid, 
' It must have fallen upon her head 
' Who first thee from thy faith misled. 
' And yet, how well soever meant, 
' With them 'twould soon grow fraudulent ; 
' For like themselves they alter all, 
' And vice infects the very wall ; 
' But sure those buildings last not long, 
' Founded by folly, kept by wrong. 
' I know what fruit their gardens yield, 
' When they it think by night concealed. 
' Fly from their vices : 'tis thy state, 
' Not thee, that they would consecrate. 
* Fly from their ruin : how I fear, 
' Though guiltless, lest thou perish there ! ' 

What should he do ? He would respect 
Religion, but not right neglect : 



OF MARVELL. 15 

For first, religion taught him right, 
And dazzled not, but cleared his sight. 
Sometimes, resolved, his sword he draws, 
But reverenceth then the laws ; 'iso 

For justice still that courage led. 
First from a judge, then soldier bred. 
Small honour would be in the storm. ; 
The Court him grants the lawful form. 
Which licensed either peace or force, 235 

To hinder the unjust divorce. 
Yet still the Nuns his right debarr'd. 
Standing upon their holy guard. 
Ill-counselled women, do you know 
Whom you resist, or what to do ? 240 

Is not this he, whose offspring fierce 
Shall fight through all the universe ; .. 

And with successive valour try 
France, Poland, either Germany, 
Till one, as long since prophesied, 245 

His horse through conquered Britain ride ? 
■Yet, against fate, his spouse they kept. 
And the great race would intercept. 
Some to the breach, against their foes. 
Their wooden Saints in vain oppose ; 230 

Another bolder, stands at push, 
With their old holy-water brush, 
While the disjointed Abbess threads 
The jingling chain-shot of her beads ; 
But their loud'st cannon were their lungs, 2.55 

And sharpest weapons were their tongues. 



16 THE POEMS 

But, waving these aside like flies, 

Youno; Fairfax through the wall does rise. 

Then the unfrequented vault appeared, 

And superstitions, vainly feared ; 260 

The relicks false were set to view ; 

Only the jewels there were true, 

And truly bright and holy Thwates, 

That weeping at the altar waits. 

But the glad youth away her bears, 265 

And to the Nuns bequeathes her tears, 

Who guiltily their prize bemoan. 

Like gypsies who a child have stol'n. 

Thenceforth (as, when the enchantment ends, 

The castle vanishes or rends) ero 

The wasting cloister, with the rest, 

Was, in one instant, dispossessed. 

At the demolishing, this seat, 
To Fairfax fell, as by escheat ; 
And what both Nuns and Founders willed, 275 
'Tis likely better thus fulfilled. 
For if the virgin proved not theirs, 
The cloister yet remained hers ; 
Though many a Nun there made her vow, 
'Twas no religious house till now. seo 

From that blest bed the hero came 
Whom France and Poland yet does fiime. 
Who, when retired here to peace, 
His warlike studies could not cease, 
But laid these gardens out in sport -jss 

In the just figure of a fort, 



OF MARVELL. 17 

And with five bastions it did fence, 
As aiming one for every sense. 
"When in the east the morning ray 
Hangs out the colours of the day, 29c 

The bee through these known alleys hums, • 
Beating the dian with its drums. 
Then tlowers their drowsy eyelids raise, 
Their silken ensigns each displays, 
And dries its pan yet dank with dew, 295 

And fills its flask with odours new. 
These, as their Governor goes by. 
In fragrant volleys they let fly. 
And to salute their Governess 
Again as great a charge they press : aoo 

None for the virgin nymph ; for she 
Seems with the flowers, a flower to be. 
And think so still ! though not compare 
With breath so sweet, or cheek so fair! 
Well shot, ye firemen ! Oh how sweet m 

And round your equal fires do meet. 
Whose shrill report no ear can tell, 
But echoes to the eye and smell ! 
See how the flowers, as at parade, 
Under their colours stand displayed ; 310 

Each regiment in order grows. 
That of the tulip, pink, and rose. 
But when the vigilant patrol 
Of stars walk round about the pole. 
Their leaves, which to the stalks are curled, ■;ii 
Seem to their staves the ensigns furled. 
2 



18 THE POEMS 

Then in some flower's beloved hut, 
Each bee, as sentinel, is shut, 
And sleeps so too, but, if once stiiTcd, 
She runs you through, nor asks the word. 

Oh thou, that dear and happy isle. 
The garden of the world ere while, 
Thou Paradise of the four seas, 
Which heaven planted us to please. 
But, to exclude the world, did guard 
With watery, if not flaming sword, — 
What luckless apple did we taste, 
To make us mortal, and thee waste ? 
Unhappy ! shall we never more 
That sv/eet militia restore. 
When gardens only had their towers, 
And all the garrisons were flowers. 
When roses only arms might bear. 
And men did rosy garlands wear ? 
Tulips, in several colours barred, 
Were then the Switzers of our guard ; 
The gardener had the soldier's place. 
And his more gentle forts did trace ; 
The nursery of all things green 
Was then the only magazine ; 
The winter quarters were the stoves, 
Where He the tender plants removes. 
But war all this doth overgrow : 
We ordnance plant, and powder sow. 
And yet there walks one on the sod, 



OF MARYELL. 19 

Who, bad it pleased him and God, 

Might once have made our gardens spring, 

Fresh as his own, and flourishing. 

But he preferred to the Cinque Ports, 

These five imaginary forts, sso 

And, in those half-dry trenches, spanned 

Power which the ocean might command. 

For he did, W'ith his utmost skill. 

Ambition weed, but conscience till, — 

Conscience, that heaven-nursed plant, 355 

Which most our earthly gardens want. 

A prickling leaf it bears, and such 

As that which shrinks at every touch. 

But flow^ers eternal, and divine. 

Which in the crowns of Saints do shine. aeo 

The sight does from these bastions ply, 
The invisible artillery. 
And at proud CaAvood Castle seems 
To point the battery of its beams, 
A^ if it quarrelled in the seat, 365 

The ambition of his prelate great. 
But o'er the meads below it plays. 
Or innocently seems to gaze. 
And now to the abyss I pass 
Of that unfathomable grass, an 

Where men like grasshoppers appear. 
But grasshoppers are giants there : 
They, in their squeaking laugh, contemn 
Us as we walk more low than them, 



20 THE POEMS 

And from the precipices tall 

Of the green spires to us do call. 

To see men through this meadow dive, 

We wonder how they rise alive ; 

As under water, none does know 

Whether he fall through it or go, 

But, as the mariners who sound. 

And show upon their lead the ground, 

They bring up flowers so to be seen, 

And prove they've at the bottom been. 

No scene, that turns with engines strange, 

Does oftener than these meadows change ; 

For when the sun the grass hath vexed, 

The tawny mowers enter next. 

Who seem like Israelites to be. 

Walking on foot through a green sea. 

To them the grassy deeps divide. 

And crowd a lane to either side ; 

With whistling scythe and elbow strong 

These massacre the grass along. 

While one, unknowing, carves the rail, 

Whose yet unfeathered quills her fail ; 

The edge all bloody from its breast 

He draws, and does his stroke detest. 

Fearing the flesh, untimely mowed, 

To him a fate as black forebode. 

But bloody Thestylis, that waits 

To bring the mowing camp their cates. 

Greedy as kite, has trussed it up 

And forthwith means on it to sup, 



OF MARVELL. 21 

When on another quick she lights, 405 

And cries, " he call'd us Israelites ; 

But now, to make his saying true, 

Rails rain for quails, for manna dew." 

Unhappy birds ! what does it boot 

To build below the grass's root ; 410 

When lowness is unsafe as height, 

And chance o'ertakes what 'scapeth spite ? 

And now your orphan parent's call 

Sounds your untimely funeral ; 

Death-trumpets creak in such a note, 415 

And 'tis the sourdine in their throat. 

Or sooner hatch, or higher build ; 

The mower now commands the field ; 

In whose new traverse seemeth wrought 

A camp of battle newly fought, 420 

Where, as the meads with hay, the plain 

Lies quilted o'er with bodies slain : 

The women that with forks it fling, 

Do represent the pillaging. 

And now the careless victors play, 425 

Dancing the triumphs of the hay, 

Where every mower's wholesome heat 

Smells like an Alexander's sweat. 

Their females fragrant as the mead 

Which they in fairy circles tread : 430 

When at their dance's end they kiss. 

Their new-made hay not sweeter is ; 

When, after this, 'tis piled in cocks, 

Like a calm sea it shews the rocks ; 



22 THE POEMS. 

We wondering in the river near 
How boats among them safely steer ; 
Or, like the desert Memphis' sand, 
Short pyramids of hay do stand ; 
And sucli the Roman camps do rise 
In hills for soldiers' obsequies. 

This scene, again withdrawing, brings 
A new and empty face of things ; 
A levelled space, as smooth and plain. 
As cloths for Llllt * stretched to stain. 
The world when first created sure 
"Was such a table rase and pure ; 
Or rather such is the Toril, 
Ere the bulls enter at MadrU ; 
For to this naked equal flat, 
Which levellers take pattern at. 
The villagers in common chase 
Their cattle, which it closer rase ; 
And what below the scythe increased 
Is pinched yet nearer by the beast. 
Such, in the painted world, appeared 
Davenant, with the universal herd. 
They seem within the polished grass 
A landscape drawn in looking-glass ; 
And shrunk in the huge pasture, show 
As spots, so shaped, on faces do ; 
Such fleas, ere they approach the eye, 
In multiplying glasses lie. 

' An eminent cloth dver. 



OF MARYELL. 23 

They feed so wide, so slowly move, 

As constellations do above. 

Then, to conclude these pleasant acts, <55 

Denton sets ope its cataracts ; 

And makes the meadow truly be 

(What it but seemed before) a sea ; 

For, jealous of its Lord's long stay, 

It tries to invite him thus away. 4-0 

The river in itself is drowned, 

And isles the astonished cattle round. 

Let others tell the paradox, 
How eels now bellow in the ox ; 
How horses at their tails do kick, 475 

Turned, as they hang, to leeches quick ; 
How boats can over bridges sail, 
And fishes to the stables scale ; 
How salmons trespassing are found, 
And pikes are taken in the pound ; 4ao 

But I, retiring from the flood, 
Take sanctuary in the wood ; 
And, while it lasts, myself embark 
In this yet green, yet growing ark, 
"Where the first carpenter might best ^ss 

Fit timber for his keel have pressed. 
And where all creatures might have shares. 
Although in armies, not in pairs. 
The double wood, of ancient stocks, 
Linked in so thick an union locks, ■'*' 

It like two pedigrees appears, 



24 THE POEMS. 

On one hand Fairfax, t'other Veres : 

Of whom though many fell in war, 

Yet more to heaven shooting are : 

And, as thej Nature's cradle decked. 

Will, in green age, her hearse expect. 

"When first the eye this forest sees, 

It seems indeed as wood, not trees ; 

As if their neighbourhood so old 

To one great trunk them all did mould. 

There the huge bulk takes place, as meant 

To thrust up a fifth element, 

And stretches still so closely wedged, 

As if the night within were hedged. 

Dark all without it knits ; within 

It opens passable and thin. 

And in as loose an order grows, 

As the Corinthian porticos. 

The arching boughs unite between 

The columns of the temple green, 

And underneath the winged quires 

Echo about their tuned fires. 

The nightingale does here make choice 

To sing the trials of her voice ; 

Low shrubs she sits in, and adorns 

With music high the squatted thorns ; 

But highest oaks stoop down to hear. 

And listening elders prick the ear ; 

The thorn, lest it should hurt her, draws 

AVithin the skin its shrunken claws. 

But I have for my music found 



OF MARVELL. 25 

A sadder, yet more pleasing sound ; 

The stock-doves, whose fair necks are graced 

"With nuptial rings, their ensigns chaste. 

Yet always, for some cause unknown, 5^5 

Sad pair, unto the elms they moan. 

O why should such a couple mourn. 

That in so equal flames do burn ! 

Then as I careless on the bed 

Of gelid strawberries do tread, sao 

And through the hazels thick espy 

The hatching throstle's shining eye, 

The heron, from the ash's top. 

The eldest of its young lets drop, 

As if it stork-like did pretend 535 

That tribute to its lord to send. 

But most the hewel's wonders are, 

Who here has the holtselster's care ; 

He walks still upright from the root, 

Measuring the timber with his foot, 540 

And all the way, to keep it clean, 

Doth from the bark the wood-moths glean ; 

He, with his beak, examines well 

AYhich fit to stand, and which to fell ; 

The good he numbers up, and hacks 545 

As if he marked them with an axe ; 

But where he, tinkling with his beak. 

Does find the hollow oak to speak, 

That for his building he designs, 

And through the tainted side he mines. 550 

Who could have thought the tallest oak 



26 THE POEMS 

Should fall by such a feeble stroke ? 
Nor would it, had the tree not fed 
A traitor worm, within it bred, 
(As first our flesh, corrupt within, 
Tempts impotent and bashful sin,) 
And yet that worm triumphs not long. 
But serves to feed the hewel's young, 
While the oak seems to fall content. 
Viewing the treason's punishment. 

Thus, I, easy philosopher. 
Among the birds and trees confer, 
And little now to make me wants 
Or of the fowls, or of the plants : 
Give me but wings as they, and I 
Straight floating on the air shall fly ; 
Or turn me but, and you shall see 
I was but an inverted tree. 
Akeady I begin to call 
In their most learned original. 
And, where I language want, my signs 
The bird upon the bough divines. 
And more attentive there doth sit 
Than if she were with lime-twigs knit. 
No leaf does tremble in the wind, 
Which I returning cannot find ; 
Out of these scattered Sibyl's leaves, 
Strange prophecies my fancy weaves, 
And in one history consumes. 
Like Mexique paintings, all the plumes 



OF MARVELL. >27 

What Rome, Greece, Palestine, e'er said, 

I in this light Mosaic read. 

Thrice happy he, who, not mistook. 

Hath read in nature's mystic book ! 

And see how chance's better wit sss 

Could with a mask my studies hit ! 

The oak-leaves me embroider all. 

Between which caterpillars crawl ; 

And ivy, with familiar trails. 

Me licks and clasps, and curls and hales. 590 

Under this Attic cope I move. 

Like some great prelate of the grove ; 

Then, languishing with ease, I toss 

On pallets swoln of velvet moss. 

While the wind, cooling through the boughs, 595 

Flatters with air my panting brows. 

Thanks for my rest, ye mossy banks, 

And unto you, cool zephyrs, thanks. 

Who, as my hair, my thoughts too shed. 

And winnow from the chalF my head 1 eoo 

How safe, methinks, and strong behind 
These trees, have I encamped my mind, 
Where beauty, aiming at the heart, 
Bends in some tree its useless dart, 
And where the world no certain shot -ms 

Can make, or me it toucheth not, 
But I on it securely play. 
And gall its horsemen all the day. 
Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines, 



28 THE POEMS 

Curl me about, ye gadding vines, 

And oh so close your circles lace, 

That I may never leave this place ! 

But, lest your fetters prove too weak, 

Ere I your silken bondage break. 

Do you, brambles, chain me too, 

And, courteous briars, nail me through ! 

Here in the morning tie my chain. 

Where the two woods have made a lane. 

While, like a guard on either side, 

The trees before their Lord divide ; 

This, like a long and equal thread, 

Betwixt two labyrinths does lead. 

But, where the floods did lately drown, 

There at the evening stake me down ; 

For now the waves are fallen and dried. 

And now the meadows fresher dyed. 

Whose grass, with moister colour dashed, 

Seems as green silks but newly washed. 

No serpent new, nor crocodile. 

Remains behind our little JNile, 

Unless itself you will mistake, 

Among these meads the only snake. 

See in what wanton harmless folds. 

It everywhere the meadow holds, 

And its yet muddy back doth lick, 

'Till as a crystal mirror slick, 

Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt 

If they be in it, or without. 

And for his shade which therein shines, 



OF MARVEL L. 20 

Narcissus-like, the sun too pines. fi«o 

Oh what a pleasure 'tis to hedge 

My temples here with heavy sedge, 

Abandoning my lazy side, 

Stretched as a bank unto the tide, 

Or to suspend my sliding foot 645 

On the osier's undermined root. 

And in its branches tough to hang, 

"While at my lines the fishes twang ! 

But now away my hooks, my quills, 

And angles, idle utensils ! sso 

The young Maria walks to-night : 

Hide, trifling youth, thy pleasures slight : 

'Twere shame that such judicious eyes 

Should with such toys a man surprise ; 

She that already is the law ^ 

Of all her sex, her age's awe, 

See how loose nature, in respect 

To her, itself doth recollect. 

And every thing so washed and fine, 

Starts forth with it to its honne mine. seo 

The sun himself of her aware. 

Seems to descend with greater care. 

And, lest she see him go to bed, 

In blushing clouds conceals his head. 

So when the shadows laid asleep, ees 

From underneath these banks do creep, 

And on the river, as it flows, 

With ebon shuts begin to close, 

The modest halcyon comes in sight. 



so THE POEMS 

Flying betwixt the day and night, 

And such a horror calm, and dumb, 

Admiring nature does benumb ; 

The viscous air, where'er she fly. 

Follows and sucks her azure dye ; 

The jellying stream compacts below, 

If it might fix her shadow so ; 

The stupid fishes hang, as plain 

As flies in crystal overta'en, 

And men the silent scene assist. 

Charmed with the sapphire-winged mist ; — 

Maria such, and so doth hush 

The world, and through the evening rush. 

No new-born comet such a train 

Draws through the sky, nor star new slain. 

For straight those giddy rockets fail, 

Which from the putrid earth exhale. 

But by her flames, in heaven tried, 

Nature is wholly vitrified. 

'Tis she, that to these gardens gave 

That wondrous beauty which they have ; 

She straightness on the woods bestows ; 

To her the meadow sweetness owes ; 

Nothing could -make the river be 

So crystal pure, but only she. 

She yet more pure, sweet, straight, and fair 

Than gardens, woods, meads, rivers are. 

Therefore what first she on them spent. 

They gratefully again present ; 

The meadow carpets where to tread, 



OF MARVEL L. 31 

The garden flowers to crown her head, roo 

And for a glass the limpid brook, 

"Where she may all her beauties look, 

But, since she would not have them seen, 

The wood about her draws a screen. 

For she to higher beauties raised, roo 

Disdains to be for lesser i^raised. 

She counts her beauty to converse 

In all the lan^ua^es as hers ; 

Nor yet in those herself employs. 

But for the wisdom not the noise ; 7io 

Nor yet that wisdom would affect, 

But as 'tis heaven's dialect. 

Blest nymph ! that couldst so soon prevent 

Those trains by youth against thee meant ; 

Tears (watery shot that pierce the mind,) ri5 

And sighs (love's cannon charged with wind ;) 

True praise (that breaks through all defence,) 

And feigned complying innocence ; 

But knowing where this ambush lay, 

She 'scaped the safe, but roughest way. 720 

This 'tis to have been from the first 

In a domestic heaven nursed, 

Under the discipline severe 

Of Fairfax, and the starry Verb, 

Where not one object can come nigh 'iis 

But pure, and spotless as the eye, 

And goodness doth itself entail 

On females, if there want a male. 



o2 THE POEMS 

Go now, fond sex, that on your face 
Do all your useless study place, 730 

Nor once at vice your brows dare knit, 
Lest the smooth forehead wrinkled sit : 
Yet your own face shall at you grin, 
Thorough the black bag of your skin, 
"When knowledge only could have filled, ~25 

And virtue all those furrows tilled. 
Hence she with graces more divine 
Supplies beyond her sex the line, 
And, like a sprig of misletoe, 
On the Fairfacian oak does growv 740 

Whence, for some universal good, 
The priest shall cut the sacred bud. 
While her glad parents most rejoice 
And make their destiny their choice. 
Meantime, ye fields, springs, bushes, flowers, 745 
Where yet she leads her studious hours, 
(Till Fate her worthily translates 
And find a Fairfax for our Th waxes,) 
Employ the means you have by her. 
And in your kind yourselves prefer, 750 

That, as all virgins she precedes, 
So you all woods, streams, gardens, meads. 
For you, Thessalian Tempe's seat 
Shall now be scorned as obsolete ; 
Aranjuez, as less, disdained ; 755 

The Bel-Retiro, as constrained ; 
But name not the Idalian grove. 
For 'twas the seat of wanton love ; 



OF MARVELL. 

Nor e'en the dead's Elysian fields, 
Yet not to them your beauty yields. 
'Tis not, as once appeared the world, 
A heap confused together hurled, 
All negligently overgrown, 
Gulfs, deserts, precipices, stone ; 
Your lesser world contains the same, 
But in more decent order tame. 
You, Heaven's centre, Nature's lap ; 
And Paradise's only map. 

And now the salmon-fishers moist, 
Their leathern boats begin to hoist ; 
And, like Antipodes in shoes, 
Have shod their heads in their canoes. 
How tortoise-like, but not so slow. 
These rational amphibii go ! 
Let's in ; for the dark hemisphere 
Does now like one of them appear. 



34 THE POEMS 



THE CORONET. 

WiiEX with tlie thorns with which I long, too 
long, 
With many a piercing wound, 
My Saviour's head have crowned, 

I seek with garlands to redress that wrong, — 
Through every garden, every mead, 

I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers) 
Dismantling all the fragrant towers 

That once adorned ray shepherdess's head : 

And now, when I have summed up all my store. 
Thinking (so I myself deceive) 
So rich a chaplet thence to weave 

As never yet the King of Glory wore, 
Alas ! I find the Serpent old, 
Twining in his speckled breast, 
About the flowers disguised does fold, 
With wreaths of fame and interest. 

Ah foolish man, that would'st debase with them, 

And mortal glory, Heaven's diadem ! 

But thou who only could'st the Serpent tame, 



OF MARVELL. 35 

Either Lis slii')pery knots at once untie. 
And disentangle all his winding snare, 
Or shatter too with him my curious frame, 
And let these wither so that he may die. 
Though set with skill, and chosen out with carc^ 
That they, while thou on both their spoils dost 

tread, 
Hay crown thy feet, that could not crown thy 

head. 



36 THE POEMS 



EYES AND TEARS. 

IIow wisely Nature did decree, 
With the same eyes to weep and see, 
That, having viewed the object vain. 
They might be ready to complain I 
And, since the self-deluding sight, 
In a false angle takes each height. 
These tears, which better measure all, 
Like watery lines and plummets fall 
Two tears, which sorrow long did weigh. 
Within the scales of either eye, 
And then paid out in equal poise, 
Are the true price of all my joys. 
What in the world most fair appears. 
Yea, even laughter, turns to tears. 
And all the jewels which we prize, 
IMelt in these pendants of the eyes. 
I have throuorh everv prarden been. 
Amongst the red, the white, the green, 
And yet from all those flowers I saw. 
No honey, but these tears could draw. 



OF MARVELL. 37 

So the all-seeing sun each day. 
Distils the world with chymie ray, 
But finds the essence only showers, 
Which straight in pity back he i)Ours. 
Yet happy they whom grief doth bless, 
That weep the more, and see the less, 
And, to preserve their sight more true, 
Bathe still tli^ir eyes in their own dew. 
So Magdalen in tears more wise 
Dissolved those captivating eyes, 
Whose liquid chains could flowing meet 
To fetter her Eedeemer's feet. 
Not full sails hasting loaden home. 
Nor the chaste lady's pregnant womb, 
Nor Cynthia teeming shows so fair 
As two eyes swollen with weeping are. 
The sparkling glance that shoots desire, 
Drenched in these waves, does lose its fire, 
Yea oft the Thunderer pity takes, 
And here the hissinp- lio-htnino; slakes. 
The incense was to heaven dear. 
Not as a perfume, but a tear, 
And stars shew lovely in the night, 
But as they seem the tears of light. 
Ope then, mine eyes, your double sluice, 
And practise so your noblest use ; 
For others too can see, or sleep, 
But only human eyes can weep. 
Now, like two clouds dissolving, drop, 
And at each tear, in distance stop ; 



88 THE POEMS 

Now, like two fountains, trickle down ; 
Now like two floods o'errun and drown : 
Thus let your streams o'erflow your springs, 
Till eyes and tears be the same things. 
And each the other's difference bears, 
These wee23ing eyes, those seeing tears. 



OF MARVELL. 30 



BERMUDAS. 

Where the remote Bermudas ride, 
In the ocean's bosom unespied, 
From a small boat, that rowed along, 
The listening winds received this song. 

" What should we do but sing his praise, 
That led us through the watery maze, 
Unto an isle so long unknown, 
And yet far kinder than our own ? 
Where he the huge sea-monsters wracks, 
That lift the deep upon their backs, 
He lands us on a grassy stage, 
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage. 
He gave us this eternal spring, 
AVhich here enamels every thing, 
And sends the fowls to us in care, 
On daily visits through the air ; 
He hangs in shades the orange bright, 
Like golden lamps in a green night. 
And does in the pomegranates close, 
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows ; 



40 THE POEMS 

He makes the figs our mouths to meet, 
And throws the melons at our feet, 
But apples plants of such a price, 
No tree could ever bear them twice ; 
With cedars chosen by his hand, 
From Lebanon, he stores the land. 
And makes the hollow seas, that roar, 
Proclaim the ambergrease on shore ; 
He cast (of which we rather boast) 
The Gospel's pearl upon our coast. 
And in these rocks for us did frame 
A temple where to sound his name. 
Oh ! let our voice his praise exalt, 
'Till it arrive at heaven's vault, 
Which, then (perhaps) rebounding, may 
Echo beyond the Mexique Bay." 

Thus sung they, in the English boat, 
A holy and a cheerful note. 
And all the way, to guide their chime, 
With falling oars they kept the time. 



OF MARVELL. 



CLORINDA AND DAMON. 

CLORINDA. 

Damon, come drive thy flocks this way. 

DAMON. 

No : 'tis too late they went astray. 

CLORINDA. 

I have a grassy scutcheon spied, 
Wliere Flora blazons all her pride ; 
The grass I aim to feast thy sheep, 
The flowers I for thy temples keep. 

DAMON. 

Grass withers, and the flowers too fade. 

CLORINDA. 

Seize the short joys then, ere they vade. 
Seest thou that unfrequented cave ? 

DAMON. 

That den ? 



42 ^ THE POEMS 

CLORINDA. 

Love's shrine. 

DAMON. 

But virtue's grave. 

CLORINDA. 

Ill whose cool bosom we may lie, 
Safe from the sun. 

DAMON. 

Not heaven's eye. 

CLORINDA. 

Near this, a fountain's liquid bell 
Tinkles within the concave shell. 

DAMON. 

Might a soul bathe there and be clean, 
Or slake its drought ? 

CLORINDA. 

What is't you mean 

DAMON. 

Clorinda, pastures, caves, and springs, 
These once had been enticing things. 

CLORINDA. 

And what late change ? 



Pan met me. 



OF MARVELL. 43 

DAMOX. 

The otlier day 

CLORINDA. 

What did great Pan say ? 



DAMON. 

Words that transcend poor shepherd's skil 
But he e'er since my songs does fill, 
And his name swells my slender oat. 

CLORINDA. 

Sweet must Pan sound in Damon's note. 

DAMON. 

Clorinda's voice might make it sweet. 

CLORINDA. 

Who would not in Pan's praises meet ? 

CHORUS. 

Of Pan the flowery pastures sing, 
Caves echo, and the fountains ring. 
vSing then while he doth us inspire ; 
For all the world is our Pan's quire. 



41 THE POEMS 



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL AND 
BODY. 

SOUL. 

who shall from this dungeon raise 
A soul enslaved so many ways ? 
With bolts of bones, that fettered stands 
In feet, and manacled in hands ; 
Here blinded with an eye, and there 
Deaf with the drumming of an ear ; 
A soul hung up, as 'twere, in chains 
Of nerves, and arteries, and veins ; 
Tortured, besides each other part, 
In a vain head, and double heart ? 

BODY. 

who shall me deliver whole, 
From bonds of this tyrannic soul. 
Which, stretched upright, impales me so 
That mine own precipice I go. 
And warms and moves this needless frame, 
(A fever could but do the same,) 
And, wanting where its spite to try. 
Has made me live to let me die 



OF MARYELL. 

A body that could never rest, 
Since this ill spirit it possessed ? 

SOUL. 

AVhat magic could me thus confine 
Within another's grief to pine, 
Where, whatsoever it complain, 
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain. 
And all my care itself employs. 
That to preserve, which me destroys ; 
Constrained not only to endure 
Diseases, but, what's worse, the cure ; 
And, ready oft the port to gain, 
Am shipwrecked into health again ? 

BODY. 

But Physic yet could never reach 
The maladies thou me dost teach, 
Whom first the cramp of hope does tear, 
And then the palsy shakes of fear ; 
The pestilence of love does heat. 
Or hatred's hidden ulcer eat ; 
Joy's cheerful madness does perplex, 
Or sorrow's other madness vex ; 
Which knowledge forces me to know, 
And memory will not forego ; 
What but a soul could have the wit 
To build me up for sin so fit? 
So architects do square and hew 
Green trees that in the forest iz-rew. 



46 THE POEMS 



THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE 
DEATH OF HER FAWN. 

The wanton troopers riding by, 
Have shot my fawn, and it will die. 
Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive 
Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive 
Them any harm, alas ! nor could 
Thy death yet do them any good. 
I'm sure I never wished them ill ; 
Nor do I for all this, nor will : 
But, if my simple prayers may yet 
Prevail with heaven to forget 
Thy murder, I will join my tears, 
Rather than fail. But, my fears ! 
It cannot die so. Heaven's king 
Keeps register of every thing. 
And nothing may we use in vain ; 
Even beasts must be with justice slain, 
Else men are made their deodands. 
Though they should wash their guilty hands 
In this warm life-blood which doth part 
From thine and wound me to the heart, 



OP MAR YELL. 47 

Yet could they not be clean, their stain 
Is dyed in such a purple grain. 
There is not such another in 
The world, to offer for their sin. 

Inconstant Sylvio, when yet 
I had not found him counterfeit, 
One morning (I remember well) 
Tied in this silver chain and bell, 
Gave it to me : nay, and I know 
What he said then, I'm sure I do ; 
Said he, ' Look how your huntsman here 
' Hath taught a fawn to hunt his deer.' 
But Sylvio soon had me beguiled ; 
This waxed tame, while he grew wild. 
And quite regardless of my smart. 
Left me his fawn, but took his heart. 

Thenceforth I set myself to play 
My solitary time away 
With this ; and, very well content. 
Could so mine idle life have spent ; 
For it was full of sport, and light 
Of foot and heart, and did invite 
Me to its game : it seemed to bless 
Itself in me ; how could I less 
Than love it ? 1 cannot be 
Unkind to a beast that loveth me. 

Had it lived long, I do not know 
Whether it too might have done so 



48 THE POEMS 

As SylviO did ; his gifts might be 
Perhaps as false, or more, than he ; 
But I am sure, for aught that I 
Could in so short a time espy, 
Thy love was far more better than 
The love of false and cruel man. 

With sweetest milk and sugar first 
I it at my own fingers nursed ; 
And as it grew, so every day 
It waxed more white and sweet than they 
It had so sweet a breath ! And oft 
I blushed to see its foot more soft 
And white, shall I say than my hand ? 
Nay, any lady's of the land. 

It is a wond'rous thing how fleet 
'Twas on those little silver feet ; 
With what a pretty skipping grace 
It oft would challenge me the race ; 
And, when it had left me far away, 
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay ; 
For it was nimbler much than hinds, 
And trod as if on the four winds. 

I have a garden of my own. 
But so with roses overgrowJi, 
And lilies, that you would it guess 
To be a little wilderness. 
And all the spring time of the year 
It only loved to be there. 



OF MARVELL. 49 

Among the beds of lilies I 
Have sought it oft, where it should lie, 
Yet could not, till itself would rise, 
Find it, although before mine eyes ; 
For, in the flaxen lilies' shade. 
It like a bank of lilies laid. 
Upon the roses it w^ould feed. 
Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed. 
And then to me 'twould boldly trip. 
And print those roses on my lip. 
But all its chief delight was still 
On roses thus itself to fill. 
And its pure virgin limbs to fold 
In whitest sheets of lilies cold ; 
Had it lived long, it would have been 
Lilies without, roses within. 

help ! help ! I see it faint 
And die as calmly as a saint ! 

See how it weeps ! the tears do come 
Sad, slowly, dropping like a gum. 
So weeps the wounded balsam ; so 
The holy frankincense doth flow ; 
The brotherless Heliades 
Melt in such amber tears as these. 

1 in a golden vial will 

Keep these two crystal tears, and fill 
It till it doth o'erflow with mine. 
Then place it in Diana's shrine. 
4 



50 THE POEMS 

Now my sweet fawn is vanish'd to 
Whither the swans and turtles go ; 
In fair Elysium to endure, 
With milk-white lambs, and ermines pure. 
do not run too fast : for I 
Will but bespeak thy grave, and die. 

First, my unhappy statue shall 
Be cut in marble ; and withal, 
Let it be weeping too ; but there 
The engraver sure his art may spare ; 
For I so truly thee bemoan, 
That I shall Aveep, though I be stone. 
Until my tears, still di-opping, wear 
My breast, themselves engraving there ; 
Then at my feet shalt thou be laid, 
Of purest alabaster made ; , 

For I would have thine image be 
White as I can, though not as thee. 



OF MARVELL. T) 1 



YOUNG LOYE. 

I. 

Come, little infant, love me now. 
While thine unsuspected years 

Clear thine aged father's brow 

From cold jealousy and fears. 

II. 

Pretty surely 'twere to see 

By young Love old Time beguiled, 
While our sportings are as free 

As the nurse's with the child. 

III. 
Common beauties stay fifteen ; 

Such as yours should swifter move. 
Whose fair blossoms are too green 

Yet for lust, but not for love. 

IV. 

Love as much the snowy lamb. 

Or the wanton kid, does prize. 

As the lusty bull or ram. 

For his mornin": sacrifice. 



52 THE POEMS 



V. 

Now then love me: Time may take 
Thee before thy time away ; 

Of this need we'll virtue make, 

And learn love before we may. 

vr. 

So we win of doubtful fate, 

And, if good to us she meant, 

We that good shall antedate, 
Or, if ill, that ill prevent. 

VII. 
Thus do kingdoms, frustrating 

Other titles to their crown. 
In the cradle crown their king, 

So all foreign claims to drown. 

VIII. 

So to make all rivals vain, 

Now I crown thee with my love : 
Crown me with thy love again, 

And we both shall monarchs prove. 



OF MAKVELL. 53 



TO HIS COY mSTRESS. 

Had we but world enough, and time, 
This coyness, ladj, were no crime. 
We would sit down, and think which way 
To walk, and pass our long love's day. 
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side 
Should'st rubies find : I by the tide 
Of Humbei' would complain. I would 
Love you ten years before the flood, 
And you should, if you please, refuse 
Till the conversion of the Jews ; 
My vegetable love should grow 
Vaster than empires and more slow ; 
An hundred years should go to praise 
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze ; 
Two hundred to adore each breast, 
But thirty thousand to the rest ; 
An age at least to every part. 
And the last age should show your hcait. 
For, lady, you deserve this state, 
Xor would I love at lower rate. 



54 THE POEMS 

But at my back I always hear 
Time's winged chariot hurrying near, 
And yonder all before us lie 
Deserts of vast eternity. 
Thy beauty shall no more be found, 
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound 
My echoing song : then worms shall try 
That long preserved virginity, 
And your quaint honour turn to dust, 
And into ashes all my lust : 
The grave's a fine and private place. 
But none, I think, do there embrace. 

Now therefore, while the youthful hue 
Sits on thy skin like morning dew. 
And while thy willing soul transpires 
At every pore with instant fires, 
Now let us sport us while we may. 
And now, like amorous birds of prey 
Rather at once our time devour, 
Than languish in his slow-chaped power. 
Let us roll all our strength and all 
Our sweetness up into one ball. 
And tear our jDleasures with rough strife, 
Thorough the iron gates of life ; 
Thus, though we cannot make our sun 
Stand still, yet we will make him run. 



OF MAR YELL. 55 



THE UNFORTUNATE LOVER. 

Alas ! how pleasant are their days, 
With whom the infant love yet plays ! 
Sorted by pairs, they still are seen 
By fountains cool and shadows green ; 
But soon these flames do lose their light. 
Like meteors of a summer's night ; 
Nor can they to that region climb, 
To make impression upon time. 
'Twas in a shipwreck, when the seas 
Ruled, and the winds did what they please, 
That my poor lover floating lay. 
And, ere brought forth, was cast away ; 
'Till at the last the master wave 
Upon the rock his mother drave. 
And there she split against the stone. 
In a Caesarian section. 
The sea him lent these bitter tears, 
"Which at his eyes he always bears. 
And from the winds the sighs he bore, 
Which through his surging breast do roar ;. 



56 THE POEMS 

No clay he saw but that which breaks 

Through frighted clouds in forked streaks. 

While round the rattling thunder hurled, 

As at the funeral of the world. 

While nature to his birth presents 

This masque of quarrelling elements, 

A numerous fleet of cormorants black, 

That sailed insulting o'er tlie wrack, 

Received into their cruel care, 

The unfortunate and abject heir ; 

Guardians most fit to entertain 

The orphan of the hurricane. 

They fed him up with hopes and air, 

Which soon digested to despair. 

And as one cormorant fed him, still 

Another on his heart did bill ; 

Thus, while they famish him, and feast, 

He both consumed, and increased, 

And languished with doubtful breath. 

The arapliibium of life and death. 

And now, when angry heaven would 

Behold a spectacle of blood, 

Fortune and he are called to play 

At sharp before it all the day, 

And tyrant Love his breast does ply 

With all his winged artillery. 

Whilst he, betwixt the flames and waves, 

Like Ajax, the mad tempest braves. 

See how he naked and fierce does stand, 

Cuffinor the thunder with one hand, 



OF MARA'ELL. 0/ 

While ^\'itli the other he does lock, 

And grapple, with the stubborn rock, 

From which he with each wave rebounds. 

Torn into flames, and ragged with wounds. 

And all he says, a lover drest 

In his own blood does relish best. 

This is the only banneret. 

That ever love created yet ; 

Who, though by the malignant stars, 

Forced to live in storms and wars, 

Yet dying, leaves a perfume here, 

And music within every ear ; 

And he in story only rules, 

In a field sable, a lover gules. 



.58 THE POEMS 



THE GALLERY. 

CnLORA, come view my soul, and tell 
Whether I have contrived it well ; 
How all its several lodgings lie, 
Composed into one gallery, 
And the great arras-hangings, made 
Of various faces, by are laid. 
That, for all furniture, you'll find 
Only your picture in my mind. 
Here thou art painted in the dress 
Of an inhumane raurtheress, 
Examining upon our hearts, 
(Thy fertile shop of cruel arts,) 
Engines more keen than ever yet 
Adorned a tyrant's cabinet. 
Of which the most tormenting are. 
Black eyes, red lips, and curled hair. 
But, on the other side, thou'rt drawn. 
Like to Aurora in the dawn. 
When in the east she slumbering lies, 
And stretches out her milky thighs. 



OF MARVELL. 59 

AVhile all the morning quire does sing, 

And Manna falls and roses spring, 

And, at thy feet, the wooing doves 

Sit perfecting their harmless loves. 

Like an enchantress here thou show'st. 

Vexing thy restless lover's ghost. 

And, by a light obscure, dost rave 

Over his entrails, in the cave. 

Divining thence, with horrid care. 

How long thou shalt continue fair, 

And (when informed) them throw'st away 

To be the greedy vulture's prey. 

But, against that, thou sittest afloat. 

Like Venus in her pearly boat ; 

The halcyons, calming all that's nigh. 

Betwixt the air and water fly ; 

Or, if some rolling wave appears, 

A mass of ambergrease it bears. 

Nor blows more wind than what may well 

Convoy the perfume to the smell. 

These pictures, and a thousand more. 

Of thee, my gallery do store. 

In all the forms thou can'st invent. 

Either to please me, or torment ; 

For thou alone, to people me. 

Art grown a numerous colony, 

And a collection choicer for 

Than or Whitehall's, or Mantua's were. 

But of these pictures, and the rest, 

That at the entrance likes me best. 



60 THE POEMS 

Where the same posture and the look 
Remains with which I first was took ; 
A tender shepherdess, whose hair 
Hangs loosely playing in the air, 
Transplanting flowers from the green hill 
To crown her head and bosom fill. 



OF MARVELL. Gl 



THE FAIR SINGER. 

I. 

To make a final conquest of all me, 

Love did compose so sweet an enemy, 

In Avhom both beauties to my death agree, 

Joining themselves in fatal harmony, 

That, while she with her eyes my heart does 

bind, 
She with her voice might captivate my mind. 

II- 
I could have tied from one but singly fair ; 
My disentangled soul itself might save. 
Breaking the curled trammels of her hair ; 
But how should I avoid to be her slave. 
Whose subtle art invisibly can wreath 
My fetters bf the very air I breathe ? 

III. 
It had been easy fighting in some plain, 
Where victory might hang in equal choice 



62 THE POEMS 

But all resistance against her is vain, 
Who has the advantage both of eyes and voice. 
And all my forces needs must be undone, 
She having gained both the wind and sun. 



OF marvp:ll. 63 



MOUllNING. 

I. 

You, that decipher out the fate 
Of human offsprings from the skies, 
What mean these infants ^vhich, of late, 
Spring from the stars of Chlora's eyes ? 

II. 
Her eyes confused, and doubled o'er 
With tears suspended ere they flow. 
Seem bending upwards to restore 
To heaven, whence it came, their woe. 

III. 
When, moulding of the watery spheres. 
Slow drops untie themselves away. 
As if she with those precious tears, 
Would strew the ground where Strephon lay 



Yet some affirm, pretending art. 
Her eyes have so her bosom drown'd. 
Only to soften, near her heart, 
A place to fix another wound. 



G4 THE POEMS 



V. 

And, while vain pomp does her restrain 
Within her solitary bower, 
She courts herself in amorous rain, 
Herself both Danae and the shower. 



Nay others, bolder, hence esteem 
Joy now so much her master grown, 
That whatsoever does but seem 
Like grief is from her windows thrown. 

VII. 

Nor that she pays, while she survives, 
To her dead love this tribute due, 
But casts abroad these donatives, 
At the installing of a new. 

VIII. 

How wide they dream ! the Indian slaves, 
Who sink for pearl through seas profound, 
Would find her tears yet deeper waves, 
And not of one the bottom sound. 

IX. 

I yet my silent judgment keep. 
Disputing not what they believe : 
But sure as oft the women weep, 
It is to be supposed they grieve. 



OF JIARVELL. &0 



DAPHXIS AND CIILOE. 

I. 
Daphnis must from Chloe part ; 
Now is come the dismal hour, 
That must all his hopes devour, 
All his labour, all his art. 

II. 

Nature, her own sex's foe. 
Long had taught her to be coy ; 
But she neither knew to enjoy. 
Nor yet let her lover go. 



But, with this sad news, surprised, 
Soon she let that niceness fall. 
And would gladly yield to all, 
So it had his stay comprised. 

IV. 

Nature so herself does use 
To lay by her wonted state. 
Lest the world should separate ; 
Sudden parting closer glues. 
5 



66 THE POEMS 



V. 

He, well read in all the ways 
By which men their siege maintain, 
Knew not that, the fort to gain, 
Better 'twas the siege to raise. 

VI. 

But he came so full possessed 
With the grief of parting thence, 
That he had not so much sense 
As to see he might be blessed, 

VII. 

Till Love in her language breathed 
Words she never spake before ; 
But than legacies no more. 
To a dying man bequeathed. 

VIII. 

For alas ! the time was spent ; 
Now the latest minute's run, 
When poor Daphnis is undone, 
Between joy and sorrow rent. 



IX. 

At that why ? that stay, my dear 
His disordered locks he tare. 
And with rolling eyes did glare. 
And his cruel fate forswear. 



OF MARVELL. 07 



X. 

As the soul of, one scarce dead, 
With the shrieks of friends aghast, 
Looks distracted back in haste. 
And then straiojht a^^ain is fled ; 

XI. 

So did wretched Daphnis look, 
Frighting her he loved most ; 
At the last this lover's ghost. 
Thus his leave resolved took. 

XII. 

" Are ray hell and heaven joined, 
More to torture him that dies ? 
Could departure not suffice, 
But that you must then grow kind ? 



" Ah ! my Chloe, how have I 
Such a wretched minute found, 
When thy favours should me wound, 
More tlian all thy cruelty ? 

XIV. 

" So to the condemned wight, 
The delicious cup w'e fill, 
And allow him all he will. 
For his last and short delight. 



C8 THE FOEMS 



XV. 

" But I will not now begin 
Sucli a debt unto my foe, 
Nor to mj departure owe, 
What my presence could not win. 

XVI. 

" Absence is too much alone ; 
Better 'tis to go in peace, 
Than my losses to increase. 
By a late fruition. 

XA^I. 

*' "Why should I enrich my fate ? 
Tis a vanity to wear, 
For my executioner, 
Jewels of so high a rate. 

XVIII. 

" Rather I away will pine, 
In a manly stubborness. 
Than be fatted up express, 
For the Cannibal to dine. 

XIX. 

'' While this grief does thee disarm, 
All the enjoyment of our love 
But the ravishment would prove 
Of a body dead while warm ; 



OF MAKVELL. * 69 



XX. 

" And I parting should appear 
Like the gourmand Hebrew dead 
While, with quails and manna fed, 
He does through the desert err, 

XXI. 

" Or the witch that midnight wakes 
For the fern, whose magic weed 
In one minute casts the seed 
And invisible him makes. 

XXII. 

" Gentler times for love are meant : 
Who for i^arting pleasure strain, 
Gather roses in the rain. 
Wet themselves and spoil their scent. 

XXIII. 

" Farewell, therefore, all the fruit 
Which I could from love receive : 
Joy will not with sorrow weave, * 
Nor will I this grief pollute. 

XXIV. 

" Fate, I come, as dark, as sad. 
As thy malice could desire ; 
Yet bring with me all the fire, 
That love in his torches had." 



70 THE rOEMS 



XXV. 

At these words away he broke, 
As who long has praying lien, 
To his head's-man makes the sign 
And receives the parting stroke. 

XXVI. 

But hence virgins all beware ; 
Last night he with Phlogis slept, 
This night for Dorinda kept, 
And but rid to take the air. 

XXVII. 

Yet he does himself excuse; 
Nor indeed without a cause : 
For, according to the laws, 
Wliy did Chloe once refuse ? 



OF MARVELL. 



THE DEFINITION OF LOVE. 

I. 

My Love is of a birth as rare 
As 'tis, for object, strange and high ; 
It was begotten by despair. 
Upon impossibility. 

II. 

Magnanimous despair alone 
Could show me so divine a thing, 
Where feeble hope could ne'er have flown, 
But vainly flapped its tinsel wing. 



And yet I quickly might arrive 
Where my extended soul is fixed; 
But fate does iron wedges drive, 
And always crowds itself betwixt. 

IV. 

For fate with jealous eye does see 
Two perfect loves, nor lets them close ; 
Their union would her ruin be. 
And her tyrannic power depose. 



THE POEMS 



And therefore her decrees of steel 
Us as the distant poles have placed, 
(Though Love's whole world on us doth wheel) 
Xot by themselves to be embraced, 

VI. 

Unless the giddy heaven fall, 
And earth some new convulsion tear, 
And, us to join, the world should all 
Be cramped into a planisphere. 

VII. 

As lines, so loves oblique may well 
Themselves in every angle greet : 
But ours, so truly parallel, 
Though infinite, can never meet. 

VIII. 

Therefore the love which us doth bind, 
But fate so enviously debars, 
Is the conjunction of the mind, 
And opposition of the stars. 



OF MARVELL. 73 



THE PICTURE OF T. C. IN A PROSPECT 
OF FLOWERS. 

I. 
See with wliat simplicity 
This nymph begins her golden days ! 
In the green grass she loves to lie, 
And there with her fair aspect tames 
The wilder flowers and gives them names, 
But only with the roses plays, 

And them does tell 
What colours best become them and what smell. 

II. 

Who can foretell for what high cause, 
This darling of the Gods was born ? 
Yet this is she whose chaster laws 
The wanton Love shall one day, fear, 
And, under her command severe. 
See his bow broke, and ensigns torn.^ 

Happy who can 
Appease this virtuous enemy of man ! 



THE POEMS 



III. 

then let me in time compound 
And parley with those conquering eyes, 
Ere they have tried their force to wound ; 
Ere with their glancing wheels they drive 
In triumph over hearts that strive, 
And them that yield but more despise, 

Let me be laid, 
Where I may see the glories from some shade. 

IV. 

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing 
Itself does at thy beauty charm, 
Reform the errors of the spring ; 
Make that the tulips may have share 
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair ; 
And roses of their thorns disarm ; 

But most procure 
That violets may a longer age endure, 

V. 

But 0, young beauty of the woods. 
Whom nature courts with fruits and flowers, 
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds. 
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime 
To kill her infants in their prime, 
Should quickly make the example yours, 

And ere we see, 
Nip, in the blossom, all our hopes in thee. 



OF MARVELL. 



TWO SONGS 

ON THE LORD FAUCONBERG, AND THE LADY 
MARY CROMWELL. 

CHORUS, ENDYMION, LUNA. 

CHORUS. 

The astrologer's owi; eyes are set, 

And even wolves the sheep forget ; * 

Only this shepherd, late and soon. 

Upon this hill outwakes the moon. 

Hark how he sings with sad delight, 

Thorough the clear and silent night ! * 

ENDYMION. 

Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine ear, 
Nor scorn Endy3iion's plaints to hear ! 
As we our flocks, so you command 
The fleecy clouds with silver wand. 

CYNTHIA. 

If tliou a mortal, rather sleep ; 
And if a shepherd, watch thy sheep. 



76 THE POEMS 

ENDYMION. 

The shepherd, since he saw thine eyes, 
And sheep, are both thy sacrifice ; 
Nor merits he a mortal's name, 
That burns with an immortal flame. 

CYNTHIA. 

I have enough for me to do. 
Ruling the waves that ebb and flow. 

ENDYMION. 

Since thou disdain'st not then to share 
On sublunary things thj care, 
Rather restrain these double seas', 
Mine eyes, incessant deluges. 

CYNTHIA. 

My wakeful lamp all night must move. 
Securing their repose above. 

ENDYMION. 

If therefore thy resplendent ray 
Can make a night more bright than day, 
Shine thorough this obscurer breast. 
With shades of deep despair oppressed. 

CHORUS. 

Courage, Endymion, boldly woo ! 
Anchises was a shepherd too, 



OF MAllVELL. 

Yet is her younger sister laid 
Sporting ^vitll him in Ida's shade : 

And Cynthia, though the strongest, 
Seeks but the honour to have held out longest. 

EXDYMIOX. 

Here unto Latmos' top I climb, 
How far below thine orb sublime ! 
why, as well as eyes to see, 
Have I not arms that reach to thee ? 

CYNTHIA. 

'Tis needless then that I refuse. 
Would you but your own reason use. 

ENDYMION. 

Though I so high may not pretend, 
It is the same, so you descend. 

CYNTHIA. 

These stars would say I do them wrong, 
Rivals, each one, for thee too strong. 

ENDYMION. 

These stars are fixed unto their sphere 
And cannot, though they would, come near. 
Less loves set oif each other's praise. 
While stars eclipse by mixing rays. 

CYNTHIA. 

Tliat cave is dark. 



78 THE POE:\rs 

ENDYMION. 

Then none can spy 
Or shine thou there, and 'tis the sky. 

CHORUS. 

Joy to Endymion ! 
For he has Cynthia's favour won, 

And Jove himself approves 
With his serenest influence their loves. 
For he did never love to pair 
His progeny above the air, 
But to be honest, valiant, wise. 
Makes mortals matches fit for deities. 



OF MARVELL. 



79 



SECOND SONG. 

HOBBINOL, PIIILLIS, TOMALIN. 
HOBBINOL. 

Phillis, Tomalin, away ! 
Never such a merry day, 
For the northern shepherd's son 
Has Menalcas' daughter won. 

PHILLIS. 

Stay till I some flowers have tied 
In a garland for the bride. 

TOMALIN. 

If thou would'st a garland bring, 
Phillis, you may wait the spring; 
They have chosen such an hour 
When she is the only flower. 

PHILLIS. 

Let's not then, at least, be seen 
Without each a sprig of green. 



80 THE POEMS 



HOBBINOL. 

Fear not ; at Menalcas' hall 
There are bays enough for all. 
He, when young as we, did graze, 
But when old he planted bays. 

TOMALIN. 

Here she comes ; but with a look 
Far more catching than my hook ; 
'Twas those eyes, I now dare swear. 
Led our lambs we knew not where. 

nOBBINOL. 

Not our lambs own fleeces are 
Curled so lovely as her hair, 
Nor our sheep new-washed can be 
Half so white or sweet as she. 

PHILLIS. 

He so looks as fit to keep 
Somewhat else than silly sheep. 

HOBBINOL. 

Come, let's in some carol new 
Pay to love and them their due. 



Joy to that happy pair 
Wliose hopes united banish our despair. 



OF MARVELL. 81 

What shepherd could for love pretend, 
Whilst all the nymphs on Damon's choice attend ? 
What shepherdess could hope to wed 
Before Marina's turn were sped? 
Now lesser beauties may take place, 
And meaner virtues come in play. 
While they. 
Looking from high, 
Shall grace 
Our stocks and us with a propitious eye. 
But what is most, the gentle swain 
No more shall need of love complain ; 
But virtue shall be beauty's hire, 
And those be equal, that have equal fire. 
Marina yields. Who dares be coy ? 
Or who despair, now Damon does enjoy ? 

Joy to that happy pair. 
Whose hopes united banish our despair I 



THE POEMS 



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THYRSIS AND 
DORmDA. 

DORINDA. 

When death shall snatch us from these kids, 
And shut up our divided lids, 
Tell me, Thyrsis, prythee do, 
Whither thou and I must go. 

THYRSIS. 

To the Elysium. 

D GRIND A. 

Oh, where is't? 

THYRSIS. 

A chaste soul can never miss't. 

DORINDA. 

I know no way but one ; our home 
Is our Elysium. 



OF MARVELL. 83 



THTRSIS. 

Cast thine eje to yonder sky, 
There the milky way doth lie ; 
'Tis a sure, but rugged way, 
That leads to everlasting day. 

DORIXDA. 

There birds may nest, but how can I, 
That have no wings and cannot fly ? 

THYRSIS. 

Do not sigh, fair nymph, for fire 
Hath no wings, yet doth aspire 
Till it hit against the pole ; 
Heaven's the centre of the soul. 

DOEINDA. 

But in Elysium how do they 
Pass eternity away ? 

THYKSIS. 

! there's neither hope nor fear. 
There's no wolf, no fox, no bear. 
No need of dog to fetch our stray, 
Our Lightfoot we may give away ; 
And there, most sweetly, may thine ear 
Feast with the music of the sphere. 



84 THE POEMS 



D GRIND A. 

How I my future state, 

By silent thinking, antedate ! 

I prythee let us spend our time, come. 

In talking of Elysium. 

THYRSIS. 

Then I'll go on : there sheep are full 
Of softest grass, and softest wool ; 
There birds sing consorts, garlands grow. 
Cool winds do whisj^er, springs do flow ; 
There always is a rising sun, 
And day is ever but begun ; 
Shepherds there bear equal sway, 
And every nymph's a queen of May. 



DORINDA. 



Ah me I ah me 



THYRSIS. 

DoRiNDA, why dost cry ? 

D GRIND A. 

I'm sick, I'm sick, and fain would die. 

THYRSIS. • 

Convince me now that this is true 
By bidding, with me, all adieu. 



OP MARVELL. 85 

DORINDA. 

I cannot live witliout thee, I 

Will for thee, much more with thee, die. 

THYRSIS. 

Then let us give Corellia charge o'the sheep, 
And thou and I pick poppies and them steep 
In wine, and drink of it e'en till we weep, 
So shall we smoothly pass away in sleep. 



86 THE POEMS 



THE MATCH. 



Nature had long a treasure made, 

Of all her choicest store, 
Fearing, when she should be decayed, 

To beg in vain for more. 

II. 

Her orientest colours there, 

And essences most pure. 
With sweetest perfumes hoarded were, 

All, as she thought, secure, 



She seldom them unlocked or used 

But with the nicest care ; 
For, with one grain of them diffused. 

She could the world repair. 

• 

IV. 

But likeness soon together drew, 
What she did separate lay ; 

Of which one perfect beauty grew, 
And that was Celia. 



OF MARVELL. 



V. 

Love wisely had of long foreseen 
That he must once grow old, 

And therefore stored a magazine 
To save him from the cold. 

VI. 

He kept the several cells replete 

With nitre thrice refined, 
The naphtha's and the sulphur's heat, 

And all that burns the mind. 

vii. 
He fortified the double gate. 

And rarely thither came ; 
For, with one spark of these, he straight 

All nature could inflame. 

VIII. 

Till, by vicinity so long, 

A nearer way^they sought, 
And, grown magnetically strong, 

Into each other wrought. 

IX. 

Thus all his fuel did unite 

To make one fire high : 
None ever burned so hot, so bright : 

And, Celia, that am I. 



38 THE POEMS 

X. 

So we alone the happj rest, 
Whilst all the world is poor, 

And have within ourselves possessed 
All love's and nature's store. 



OF MARVELL. 



THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS. 

Luxurious man, to bring his vice in use, 

Did after him the world seduce, 
And from the fields the flowers and plants allure, 

Where nature was most plain and pure. 
He first inclosed within the gardens square 

A dead and standing pool of air, 
And a more luscious earth from them did knead, 

Which stupefied them while it fed. 
The pink grew then as double as his mind ; 

The nutriment did change the kind. 
With strange perfumes he did the roses taint ; 

And flowers themselves were taught to paint. 
The tuhp white did for complexion seek. 

And learned to interline its cheek ; 
Its union root they then so high did hold, 

That one was for a meadow sold : 
Another world was searched through oceans new. 

To find the marble of Peru, 
And yet these rarities might be allowed 

To man, that sovereign thing and proud. 



90 THE POEMS 

Had he not dealt between the bark and tree, 

Forbidden mixtures there to see. 
No plant now knew the stock from which it came 

He grafts upon the wild the tame, 
That the uncertain and adulterate fruit 

Might put the palate in dispute. 
His green seraglio has its eunuchs too. 

Lest any tyrant him outdo. 
And in the cherry he does nature vex. 

To procreate without a sex. 
'Tis all enforced, the fountain and the grot. 

While the sweet fields do lie forgot. 
Where willing nature does to all dispense 

A wild and fragrant innocence. 
And fauns and fairies do the meadows till 

More by their presence than their skill. 
Their statues, polished by some ancient hand, 

May to adorn the gardens stand, 
But, howsoe'er the figures do excel, 

The Gods themselves with us do dwell. 



OF MAT. YELL. 



91 



DAMON THE MOWER. 



Hark how the Mower Damon sung, 
With love of Juliana stung, 
W'hile every thing did seem to paint 
The scene more fit for his complaint ! 
Like her fair eyes the day was fair, 
But scorching like his amorous care ; 
Sharp, like his scythe, his sorrow was, 
And withered, like his hopes, the grass. 

Oh what unusual heats are here. 
Which thus our sun-burned meadows fear ! 
The grasshopper its pipe gives o'er, 
And hamstringed frogs can dance no more, 
But in the brook the green frog wades. 
And grasshoppers seek out the shades ; 
Only the snake, that kept within, 
Now glitters in its second skin. 
This heat « the sun could never raise, 
Nor dog-star so inflame the days ; 
It from an higher beauty groweth, 
Which burns the fields and mower both, 



92 THE POEMS 

Which made the dog, and makes the sun 
Hotter than his own Phaeton ; 
Not July causeth these extremes, 
But Juhana's scorching beams. 

Tell me where I may pass the fires 
Of the hot day, or hot desires ; 
To what cool cave shall I descend, 
Or to what gelid fountain bend ? 
Alas ! I look for ease in vain. 
When remedies themselves complain, 
No moisture but my tears do rest, • 
Nor cold but in her icy breast. 

How long wilt thou, fair shepherdess, 
Esteem me and my presents less ? 
To thee the harmless snake I bring, 
Disarmed of its teeth and sting ; 
To thee chameleons, changing hue. 
And oak leaves tipt with honey dew ; 
Yet thou ungrateful hast not sought 
Nor what they are, nor who them brought. 

I am the mower Damon, known 
Through all the meadows I have mown. 
On me the morn her dew distils 
Before her darling daffodils, 
And, if at noon my toil me heat, 
The sun himself licks off my sweat ; 
While going home the evening sweet 
In cowslip-water baths my feet. 



OF MARVELL. 93 

"\yiiat though the piping shepherd stock 
The plains with an unnumbered flock, . 
This scythe of mine discovers wide 
More ground than all his sheep do hide. 
AYith this theijgolden fleece I shear 
Of all these closes every year, 
And though in wool more poor than they, 
Yet I am richer far in hay. 

Nor am I so deformed to sight, 
If in my scythe I looked right ; 
In which I see my picture done, 
As in a crescent moon the sun. 
The deathless fairies take me oft 
To lead them in their dances soft. 
And when I tune myself to sing, 
About me they contract their ring. 

How happy might I still have mowed, 
Had not Love here his thistle sowed ! 
But now I all the day complain, 
Joining my labour to my pain, 
And with my scythe cut down the grass, 
Yet still my grief is where it was ; 
But when the iron blunter grows. 
Sighing I whet my scythe and woes. 

While thus he drew his elbow round, 
Depopulating all the ground, 
And, with his whistling scythe, does cut 
Each stroke between the earth and root. 



94 THE POEMS 

The edged steel, by careless chance^ 
Did into his own ankle glance, 
And there among the grass fell down, 
By his own scythe the mower mown. 

« 
Alas ! said he, these hurts are slight 
To those that die by love's despite. 
With shepherd's-purse, and clown's all-heal, 
The blood I stanch and wound I seal. 
Only for him no cure is found, 
Whom Juliana's eyes do wound ; 
'Tis death alone that this must do ; 
For, Death, thou art a Mower too. 



OF MARYELL. 95 



THE MOWER TO THE GLOW WORMS. 

I. 
Ye living lamps, by whose dear light 
The nightingale does sit so late, 
And studying all the summer night, 
Her matchless songs does meditate ; 

II. 
Ye country comets, that portend 
No war nor prince's funeral. 
Shining unto no other end 
Than to presage the grass's fall ; 



Ye Glow-worms, whose officious flame 
To wandering mowers shows the way, 
That in the night have lost their aim. 
And after foolish fires do stray ; 



Your courteous lights in vain you waste, 
Since Juliana here is come. 
For she my mind hath so displaced, 
That I shall never find my home. 



96 THE POEMS 



THE MOWER'S SONG. 

I. 

My mind was once the true survey 
Of all these meadows fresh and gay, 
And in the greenness of the grass 
Did see its hopes as in a glass, 
When Juliana came, and she, 
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts 
and me. 

11. 

But these, while I with sorrow pine, 
Grew more luxuriant still and fine, 
That not one blade of grass you spied, 
But had a flower on either side, — 
When Juliana came, and she. 
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts 
and me. 

III. 

Unthankful meadows, could you so 
A fellowship so true forego. 
And in your gaudy May-games meet, 
While I lay trodden under feet, 



OF MAKVELL. 97 

When Juliana came, and she, 
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts 
and me ? 

IV. 

But what you in compassion ought, 
Shall now by my revenge be wrought, 
And flowers, and grass, and I, and all, 
Will in one common ruin fall ; 
For Juliana comes, and she, 
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts 
and me. 

V. 

And thus, ye meadows, which have been 
Companions of my thoughts more green. 
Shall now the heraldry become 
With which I shall adorn my tomb ; 
For Juhana comes, and she, 
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts 
and me. 



98 THE POEMS 



AJMETAS AND THESTYLIS MAKING HAY- 
ROPES. 

AMETAS. 

Think'st thou that this love can stand, 
Whilst thou still dost say me nay ? 

Love unpaid does soon dishand : 
Love binds love, as hay binds hay. 

THESTYLIS. 

Think'st thou that this rope would twine, 
If we both should turn one way ? 

Where both parties so combine, 
Neither love Avill twist, nor hay. 

AMETAS. 

Thus you vain excuses find, 

Which yourself and us delay : 
And love ties a woman's mind. 

Looser than with ropes of hay. 



OF MARVELL. QQ 



THESTYLIS. 

What you cannot constant hope 
Must be taken as you may. 

AMETAS. 

Then let's both lay by our rope, 
And go kiss within the hay. 



]00 THE POEMS 



MUSIC'S EMPIRE. 

FiR.ST was the world as one great cymbal made, 

Where jarring winds to infant nature played; 

All music was a solitary sound, 

To hollow rocks and murmuring fountains bound. 

Jubal first made the wilder notes agree, 

And Jubal tuned Music's Jubilee ; 

He called the echoes from their sullen cell. 

And built the organ's city, where they dwell ; 

Each sought a consort in that lovely place, 

And virgin trebles wed the manly base, 

From whence the progeny of numbers new 

Into harmonious colonies withdrew ; 

Some to the lute, some to the viol went, 

And others chose the cornet eloquent ; 

These practising the wind, and those the wire. 

To sing man's triumphs, or in heaven's choir. 

Then music, the mosaic of the air, 

Did of all these a solemn noise prepare. 

With which she gained the empire of the ear, 

Including all between the earth and sphere. 



OF MARVELL. 101 

Victorious sounds ! yet here your homage do 
Unto a gentler conqueror than you ; 
Who, though he flies the music of his praise, 
Would with you heaven's hallekijahs raise. 



102 THE POEMS 



TO HIS 

WORTHY FRIEND DOCTOR WITTY, 

UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF THE POPULAR ERRORS. 

Sit farther and make room for thine own fame, 
Where just desert enrolls thy honoured name, 
The Good Interpreter. Some in this task 
Take off the cypress veil, but leave a mask, 
Changing the Latin, but do more obscure 
That sense in English which was bri<yht and 

pure. 
So of translators they are authors grown, 
For ill translators make the book their own. 
Others do strive with words and forced phrase 
To add such lustre, and so many rays. 
That but to make the vessel shining, they 
Much of the precious metal rub away. 
He is translation's thief that addeth more, 
As much as he that taketh from the store 
Of the first author. Here he maketh blots, 
That mends ; and added beauties are but spots. 

C^LiA whose English doth more richly flow 
Than Tagus, purer than dissolved snow, 



OF MARVELL. 103 

And sweet as are her lips that speak it, she 

Now learns the tongues of France and Italy ; 

But she is C^lia still ; no other grace 

But her own smiles commend that lovely face ; 

Her native beauty's not Italianated, 

Nor her chaste mind into the French translated ; 

Her thoughts are English, though her speaking 

wit 
"With other language doth them featly fit. 

Translators, learn of her : but stay, I slide 
Down into error with the vulgar tide ; 
"Women must not teach here : the doctor doth 
Stint them to cordials, almond-milk, and broth. 
Now I reform, and surely so will all 
Whose happy eyes on thy translation fall. 
I see the people hastening to thy book, 
Liking themselves the worse the more they look. 
And so disliking, that they nothing see 
Now worth the liking, but thy book and thee. 
And (if I judgment have) I censure right. 
For something guides my hand that I must 

write ; 
You have translation's statutes best fulfilled. 
That handling: neither sullv nor would "fild. 



104 THE POEMS 



ON MILTON'S PARADISE LOST. 

When I beheld the poet blind, yet bold, 
In slender book his vast design unfold, 
Messiah crowned, God's reconciled decree, 
Rebelling angels, the forbidden tree. 
Heaven, hell, earth, chaos, all ; the argument 
Held me awhile misdoubting his intent, 
That he would ruin (for I saw him strong) 
The sacred truths to fable and old song ; 
So Samson groped the temple's posts in spite. 
The world o'erwhelming to revenge his sight. 

Yet as I read, soon growing less severe, 
I liked his project, the success did fear ; 
Through that wide field how he his way should 

find. 
O'er which lame faith leads understanding blind ; 
Lest he'd perplex the things he would explain. 
And what was easy he should render vain. 

Or if a work so infinite he spanned. 
Jealous I was that some less skilful hand 



OF 3IAUVELL. 105 

(Such as disquiet always wliat is well, 

And by ill imitating would excel) 

Might hence presume the whole creation's day 

To change in scenes, and show it in a play. 

Pardon me, mighty poet, nor despise 
My causeless, yet not impious, surmise. 
But I am now convinced, and none will dare 
Within thy labours to pretend a share. 
Thou hast not missed one thought that could 

befit, 
And all that was improper dost omit ; 
So that no room is here for writers left, 
But to detect their ignorance or theft. 

That majesty which through thy w«rk doth 
reign 
Draws the devout, deterring the profane ; 
And things divine thou treat'st of in such state 
As them preserves, and thee, inviolate. 
At once delight and horror on us seize. 
Thou sing'st with so much gravity and ease. 
And above human flight dost soar aloft, 
With plume so strong, so equal, and so soft : 
The bird named from that paradise you sing 
So never flags, but always keeps on wing. 
Where couldst thou words of such a compass find ? 
Whence furnish such a vast expanse of mind ? 
Just heaven thee, like Tiresias, to requite. 
Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight. 



106 THE POEMS 

"Well might thou scorn thy readers to allure 
With tinkling rhyme, of thy own sense secure, 
While the Town-Bayes writes all the while and 

spells, 
And like a pack-horse tires without his bells. 
Their fiincies like our bushy points appear : 
The poets tag them, we for fashion wear. 
I too, transported by the mode, offend, 
And while I meant to praise thee, must commend ; 
Thy verse created like thy theme sublime, 
In number, weight, and measure, needs not 
rhyme. 



OF MARVELL. 107 



AN EPITAPH. 

Enough ; and leave the rest to fame ; 
'Tis to commend her, but to name. 
Courtsliip, which, living, she declined, 
\Yhen dead, to offer were unkind. 
Where never any could speak ill. 
Who would officious praises spill? 
Nor can the truest wit, or friend. 
Without detracting, her commend ; 
To say, she lived a virgin chaste 
In this age loose and all unlaced, 
Nor was, when vice is so allowed, 
Of virtue or ashamed or proud ; 
That her soul was on heaven so bent. 
No minute but it came and went ; 
That, ready her last debt to pay. 
She summed her life up every day ; 
Modest as morn, as mid-day bright. 
Gentle as evening, cool as night ; 
'Tis true ; but all too weakly said : 
'Twas more significant, she's dead. 



108 THE POEMS 



TRANSLATED FROM SENECA'S TRAGEDY 
OF THYESTES. 

CHORUS II. 

Climb, at court, for me, that will, 

Tottering favour's pinnacle ; 

All I seek is to lie still : 

Settled in some secret nest, 

In calm leisure let me rest, 

And, far off the public stage, 

Pass away my silent age. 

Thus, when, without noise, unknown, 

I have lived out all my span, 

I shall die, without a groan. 

An old honest countryman. 

Who, exposed to other's eyes. 

Into his own heart never pries. 

Death to him's a strange surprise. 



OP* MARYELL. 100 



A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE RESOLVED 
SOUL, AND CREATED PLEASURE. 

Courage, my soul ! now learn to wield 
The weight of thine immortal shield ; 
Close on thy head thy helmet bright ; 
Balance thy sword against the fight ; 
See where an army, strong as fair, 
With silken banners spread the air ! 
Now, if thou be'st that thing divine, 
In this day's combat let it shine. 
And show that nature wants an art 
To conquer one resolved heart. 

PLEASURE. 

Welcome ; the creation's guest, 
Lord of earth, and heaven's heir ! 
Lay aside that warlike crest, 
And of nature's banquet share. 
Where the souls of fruits and flowers. 
Stand prepared to heighten yours. 



no THE POEMS 



SOUL. 

I sup above, and cannot stay, 
To bait so long u^Don the way. 

PLEASURE. 

On these downy pillows lie, 
Whose soft plumes will thither fly : 
On these roses, strewed so plain 
Lest one leaf thy side should strain. 

SOUL. 

My gentler rest is on a thought. 
Conscious of doing what I ought. 

PLEASURE. 

If thou be'st with perfumes pleased. 
Such as oft the gods appeased, 
Thou in fragrant clouds shalt show, 
Like another god below. 

SOUL. 

A soul that knows not to jDresume, 
Is Heaven's, and its own, perfume. 

PLEASURE. 

Every thing does seem to vie 
Which should first attract thine eye : 
But since none deserves that grace. 
In this crystal view thy face. 



OF MAllVELL.. Ill 



SOUL. 

When the Creator's skill is prized, 
The rest is all but earth disguised. 

PLEASURE. 

Hark how music then prepares 
For thy stay these charming airs, 
Which the posting winds recall, 
And suspend the river's fall. 

SOUL. 

Had I but any time to lose. 

On this I would it all dispose. 

Cease tempter ! None can chain a mind. 

Whom this sw^eet cordage cannot bind. 

CHORUS. 

Earth cannot show so brave a sight, 

As when a single soul does fence 

The battery of alluring sense. 

And Heaven views it with delight. 

Then persevere ; for still new charges sound, 
And if thou overcom'st thou shalt be crowned. 

PLEASURE. 

All that's costly, fair, and sweet, 

Which scatteringly doth shine, 
Shall within one beauty meet, 

And she be only thine. 



112 THE POEMS 



SOUL. 

If things of siglit sucli heavens be, 
What heavens are those we cannot see ? 



PLEASURE. 

Wheresoe'er thy foot shall go 

The minted gold shall lie, 
Till thou purchase all below. 

And want new worlds to buy. 

SOUL. 

Wer't not for price who'd value gold ? 
And that's worth naugiit that can be sold. 

PLEASURE. 

Wilt thou all the glory have 
That war or peace commend ? 

Half the world shall be thy slave, 
The other half thy friend. 

SOUL. 

What friends, if to myself untrue ? 
W^hat slaves, unless I captive you ? 

PLEASURE. 

Thou shalt know each hidden cause, 

And see the future time. 
Try what depth the centre draws. 

And then to heaven climb. 



OF MARVEL L. 
SOUL. 

None thither mounts by the degree 
Of knowledge, but humility. 

CHORUS. 

Triumph, triumph, victorious soul ! 

The world has not one pleasure more 
The rest does lie beyond the pole, 

And is thine everlasting store. 



113 



114 THE POEMS 



A DROP OF DEW. 

(tka>-slated.) 

See, how the orient dew, 
Shed from the bosom of the morn, 
Into the blowing roses, 
(Yet careless of its mansion new. 
For the clear region where 'twas born,) 
Round in itself incloses 
And, in its little globe's extent. 
Frames, as it can, its native element. 
How it the purple flower does slight, 

Scarce touching where it lies ; 
But gazing back upon the skies, 
Shines with a mournful light, 
Like its own tear. 
Because so long divided from the sphere. 
Restless it rolls, and unsecure, 

Trembfing, lest it grow impure ; 
Till the warm sun pities its pain, 
And to the skies exhales it back again. 



OF MARVELL. l^-O 

So the soul, that drop, that raj. 
Of the clear fountain of eternal day. 
Could it within the human flower be seen, 
Remembering still its former height, 
Shuns the sweet leaves, and blossoms green, 
And, recollecting its own light, 
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express 
The greater heaven in a heaven less. 
In how coy a figure wound, 
Every way it turns away. 
So the world excluding round, 
Yet receiving in the day, • 
Dai'k beneath, but bright above, 
Here disdaming, there in love. 
How loose and easy hence to go ; 
How girt and ready to ascend ; 
Moving but on a point below. 
It all about does upwards bend. 
Such did the manna's sacred dew distil. 
White and entire, although congealed and chill ; 
Congealed on earth ; but does, dissolving, run 
Into the glories of the almighty sun. 



116 THE POEMS 



THE GARDEN. 

(TEA^'SLATED.) 

How vainly men themselves amaze, 
To win the palm, the oak, or bays. 
And their incessant labours see 
Crowned from some single herb, or tree, 
"Whose short and narrow-verged shade 
Does prudently their toils upbraid. 
While all the flowers, and trees, do close, 
To weave the garlands of repose ! 

Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, 
And Innocence, thy sister dear? 
Mistaken long, I sought you then 
In busy companies of men. 
Your sacred plants, if here below. 
Only among the plants wall grow ; 
Society is all but rude 
To this delicious solitude. 

No white nor red was ever seen 
So amorous as this lovely green. 



OF MARVELL. 117 

Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, 

Cut in these trees their mistress' name : 

Little, alas ! they know or heed, 

How far these beauties her exceed ! 

Fair trees ! where'er your barks I wound, 

No name shall but your own be found. 

When we have run our passion's heat. 
Love hither makes his best retreat. 
The gods, who mortal beauty chase. 
Still in a tree did end their race ; 
Apollo hunted Daphne so. 
Only that she might laurel grow ; 
And Pan did after Syrinx speed, 
Not as a nymph, but for a reed. 

What wond'rous life is this I lead ! 
Ripe apples drop about my head ; 
The luscious clusters of the vine 
Upon my mouth do crush their wine ; 
The nectarine, and curious peach. 
Into my hands themselves do reach ; 
Stumbling on melons, as I pass, 
Insnared with flowers, I fall on grass. 

Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less, 
Withdraws into its happiness ; — 
The mind, that ocean where each kind 
Does straight its own resemblance find ; — 
Yet it creates, transcending these, 



118 THE POEMS 

Far otlier worlds, and other seas, 

Annihilating all that's made 

To a green thought in a green shade. 

Here at the fountain's sliding foot, 
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 
Casting the body's vest aside, 
My soul into the boughs does glide : 
There, like a bird, it sits and sings, 
Then whets and claps its silver wings, 
And, till prepared for longer flight. 
Waves in its plumes the various light. 

Such was that happy garden-state, 
While man there walked without a mate : 
After a place so pure and sweet, 
What other help could yet be meet ! 
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share 
To wander solitary there : 
Two paradises are in one. 
To live in paradise alone. 

How well the skilful gardener drew 
Of flowers, and herbs, this dial new, 
Where, from above, the milder sun 
Does through a fragrant zodiac run, 
And, as it works, the industrious bee 
Computes its time as well as we ! 
How could such sweet and wholesome hour; 
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers ? 



OF MARVELL. 119 



ON THE 

VICTORY OBTAINED BY BLAKE, 

OVER THE SPANIARDS, IN THE BAY OF SANTA 
CRUZ IN THE ISLAND OF TENERIFFE, 1657. 

Now does Spam's fleet her spacious wings unfold, 
Leaves the new world, and hastens for the old ; 
But though the wind was fair, they slowly swum, 
Freighted with acted guilt, and guilt to come ; 
For this rich load, of which so proud they are. 
Was raised by tyranny, and raised for war. 
Every capacious galleon's womb was filled 
With what the womb of wealthy kingdoms yield ; 
The new world's wounded entrails they had tore. 
For wealth wherewith to wound the old once 

more, 
Weahh which all other's avarice might cloy, 
But yet in them caused as much fear, as joy. 
For now upon the main themselves they saw 
That boundless empire, where you give the law ; 
Of wind's and water's rage they fearful be. 
But much more fearful are your flags to see. 



120 THE POEMS 

Day, that to those uho sail upon the deep. 
More wished for and more welcome is than sleep, 
They dreaded to behold, lest the sun's light, 
With English streamers should salute their 

sight : 
In thickest darkness they would choose to steer, 
So that such darkness might suppress their fear 
At length it vanishes, and fortune smiles. 
For they behold the sweet Canary isles, 
One of which doubtless is by nature ijlessed 
Above both worlds, since 'tis above the rest. 
For lest some gloominess might stain her sky, 
Trees there the duty of the clouds supply : 
noble trust which heaven on this isle pours. 
Fertile to be, yet never need her showers ! 
A happy people, which at once do gain 
The benefits, without the ills, of rain ! 
Both health and profit fate cannot deny, 
Where still the earth is moist, the air still dry ; 
The jarring elements no discord know, 
Fuel and rain together kindly grow ; 
And coolness there with heat does never fight. 
This only rules by day, and that by night. 
Your worth to all these isles a just right brings, 
The best of lands should have the best of kings 
And these want nothing heaven can afford, 
Unless it be, the having you their lord ; 
But this great want will not a long one prove. 
Your conquering sword will soon that want 

remove ; 



OF MARVELL. 121 

For Spain had better, she'll ere long confess, 
Have broken all her swords, than this one 

peace ; 
Casting that league off, which she held so long, 
She cast off that which only made her strong. 
P'orces and art, she soon will feel, are vain. 
Peace, against you, was the sole strength of 

Spain ; 
By that alone those islands she secures, 
Peace makes them hers, but war will make them 

yours. 
There the rich grape the soil indulgent breeds. 
Which of the gods the fancied drink exceeds. 
They still do yield, such is their precious mould, 
All that is good, and are not cursed with gold ; 
With fatal gold, for still where that does grow 
Neither the soil, nor people, quiet know ; 
Which troubles men to raise it when 'tis ore, 
And when 'tis raised does trouble them much 

more. 
Ah, why was thither brought that cause of war. 
Kind nature had from thence removed so far I 
In vain doth she those islands free from ill, 
If fortune can make guilty what she will. 
But whilst I draw that scene, where you, ere 

long, 
Shall conquests act, you present are unsung. 

For Santa Cruz the glad fleet takes her way, 
And safely there casts anchor in the bay. 



122 THE POEMS 

Never so many, with one joyful cry, 
That place saluted, where they all must die. 
Deluded men ! Fate with you did but sport, 
You 'scaped the sea, to perish in your port. 
'Twas more for England's fame you should die 

there, 
Where you had most of strength and least of 

fear. 
The Peak's proud height the Spaniards all 

admire, 
Yet in their breasts carry a pride much higher. 
Only to this vast hill a power is given, 
At once both to inhabit earth and heaven. 
But this stupendous prospect did not near 
Make them admire, so much as they did fear. 

For here they met with news, which did pro- 
duce 
A grief, above the cure of grape's best juice. 
They learned with terror, that nor summer's heat, 
Nor winter's storms, had made your fleet retreat. 
To fight against such foes was vain, they knew. 
Which did the rage of elements subdue, 
Who on the ocean, that does horror give 
To all beside, triumphantly do live. 

With haste they therefore all their galleons 
moor. 
And flank with cannon from the neighbouring 
shore : 



OF MARVELL. 123 

Forts, lines, and sconces, all the bay along, 
They build, and act all that can make them 
strong. 



Fond men ! who knew not whilst such works 

they raise, 
They only labour to exalt your praise. 
Yet they by restless toil became at length, 
So proud and confident of their made strength. 
That they with joy their boasting general heard 
Wish then for that assault he lately feared. 
His wish he had, for now undaunted Blake, 
With winged speed, for Santa Cruz does make. 
For your renown, the conquering fleet does ride. 
O'er seas as vast as is the Spaniard's pride. 
Whose fleet and trenches viewed, you soon did 

say, 
We to their strength are more obliged than 

they; 
Wer't not for that, they from their fate would 

run, 
And a third world seek out, our arms to shun. 
Those forts, which there so high and strong 

appear, 
Do not so much suppress, as show their fear. 
Of speedy victory let no man doubt. 
Our worst work passed, now we have found 

them out. 
Behold their navy does at anchor lie. 
And they are ours, for now they cannot fly 



124 THE POEMS 

This said, the whole fleet gave it their ap- 
plause, 
And all assume your courage, in your cause. 
That bay they enter, which unto them owes 
The noblest wreaths which victory bestows ; 
Bold Stanier leads ; this fleet's designed by fate 
To give him laurel, as the last did plate. 

The thundering cannon now begins the fight, 
And, though it be at noon, creates a night ; 
The air was soon, after the fight begun. 
Far more enflamed by it, than by the sun. 
Never so burning was that climate known ; 
War turned the temperate, to the torrid zone. 

Fate these two fleets, between both worlds, had 

brought, 
Who fight, as if for both those worlds they 

sought. 
Thousands of ways, thousands of men there die, 
Some ships are sunk, some blown up in the sky. 
Nature ne'er made cedars so high aspire 
As oaks did then, urged by the active fire 
Which, by quick powder's force, so high was 

sent 
That it returned to its own element. 
Torn limbs some leagues into the island fly. 
Whilst others lower, in the sea, do lie ; 
Scarce souls from bodies severed are so far 
By death, as bodies there were by the war 



OF MARVEL L. 125 

The all-seeing sun ne'er gazed on such a sight, 
Tv.o dreadful navies there at anchor fight, 
And neither have, or power, or will, to fly ; 
There one must conquer, or there both must 

die. 
Far different motives yet engaged them thus, 
Necessity did them, but choice did us, 
A choice which did the highest worth express, 
And was attended by as high success ; 
For your resistless genius there did reign, 
By which we laurels reaped e'en on the main. 
So prosperous stars, though absent to the sense. 
Bless those they shine for by their influence. 

Our cannon now tears every ship and sconce. 
And o'er two elements triumphs at once. 
Their galleons sunk, their wealth the sea does 

fill. 
The only place where it can cause no ill. 

Ah ! would those treasures which both Indias 

have 
Were buried in as large, and deep a grave ! 
War's chief support with them would buried be, 
And the land owe her peace unto the sea. 
Ages to come your conquering arms will bless, 
There they destroyed what had destroyed their 

peace ; 
And in one war the present age may boast. 
The certain seeds of many wars are lost. 



126 THE POEMS 

All the foe's ships destroyed by sea or fire, 
Victorious Blake does from the bay retire. 
His siege of Spain he then again pursues, 
And there first brings of his success the news ; 
The saddest news that e'er to Spain was brought, 
Their rich fleet sunk, and ours with laurel fraught, 
Whilst fame in every place her trumpet blows. 
And tells the world how much to you it owes. 



OF MARVELL. 127 



THE LOYAL SCOT. 
BY Cleveland's guost, upon the death of 

CAPTAIN DOUGLAS, WHO WAS BUKNED OX HIS 
SHIP AT CHATHAM. 

Of the old heroes when the warlike shades 
Saw Douglas marching on the Elysian glades, 
They all, consulting, gathered in a ring. 
Which of the poets should his welcome sing ; 
And, as a favourable penance, chose 
Cleveland, on whom they would that task impose. 
He understood, but willingly addressed 
His ready muse, to court that noble guest. 
Much had he cured the tumour of his vein. 
He judged more clearly now and saw more 

plain ; 
For those soft airs had tempered every thought, 
Since of wise Lethe he had drunk a draujrlit. 



128 THE POEMS 

Abruptly he begun, disguising art, 
As of his satire this had been a part.* 

Not so, brave Douglas, on whose lovely chin 
The early down but newly did begin, 
And modest beauty yet his sex did veil 
While envious virgins hope he is a male. 
His yellow locks curl back themselves to seek, 
Nor other courtship knew but to his cheek. 
Oft as he in chill Esk or Tyne, by night. 
Hardened and cooled his limbs, so soft, so white, 
Among the reeds, to be espied by him. 
The nymphs would rustle, he woutd forward 

swim. 
They sighed, and said, fond boy, why so untame, 
To fly love's fires, reserved for other flame ? 

First on his ship he faced that horrid day. 
And wondered much at those who ran away. 
No other fear himself could comprehend. 
Than lest heaven fall ere thither he ascend : 
But entertains the while his time, too short. 
With birding at the Dutch, as if in sport ; 
Or waves his sword, and, could he them conjure 
Within his circle, knows himself secure. 

* Cleveland wrote a poem, in Latin and English, which he 
called, EebeUls Scotus, The Rebel Soot: A satii'e on the 
nation in general. He ends thus, 

"A Scot, when from the gallows-tree got loose, 
" Drops into Styx, and turns a Soland goose." 



OF MARVELL. 129 

The fatal bark him boards with grappling fire, 
And safely through its port the Dutch retire. 
That precious life he yet disdains to save, 
Or with known art to try the gentle wave. 
Much him the honour of his ancient race 
Inspired, nor would he his own deeds deface ; 
And secret joy in his calm soul does rise, 
That Monk looks on to see how Douglas dies. 
Like a glad lover the fierce flames he meets. 
And tries his first embraces in their sheets ; 
His shape exact, which the bright flames 

enfolds 
Like the su3's statue stands of burnished sold ; 
Round the transparent fire about him glows. 
As the clear amber on the bees does close, 
And, as on angels' heads their glories shine, 
His burning locks adorn his face divine. 
.But when in his immortal mind he felt 
His altering form and soldered limbs to melt, 
Down on the deck he laid himself, and died, 
With his dear sword reposing by his side. 
And on the fiaming plank so rests his head. 
As one that warmed himself, and went to bed. 
His ship burns down, and with his relics sinks, 
And the sad stream beneath his ashes drinks. 
Fortunate boy ! if either pencil's fame. 
Or if my verse can propagate thy name, 
When CEta and Alcides are forgot. 
Our English youth shall sing the valiant Scot. 
9 



130 THE POEMS 

Ship-saddles, Pegasns. thou needst not brag, 
Sometimes the galloway proves the better nag. 
Shall not a death so generous, when told, 
Unite our distance, fill our breaches old ? 
So in the Roman forum, Curtius brave . 
Galloping down, closed up the gaping cave. 
No more discourse of Scotch and English race, 
Nor chant the fabulous hunt of Chevy-Chace ; 
Mixed in Corinthian metal at thy flame, 
Our nations melting thy Colossus frame. 
Prick down the point, whoever has the art, 
Where nature Scotland does from Endand 

part ; — 
Anatomists may sooner fix the cells 
"WTiere life resides, and understanding dwells. 
But this we know, though that exceeds our 

skill. 
That whosoever separates them does ill. 
Will you the Tweed that sullen bounder call. 
Of soil, of wit, of manners, and of all ? 
Why draw you not, as well, the thrifty line 
From Thames, from Humber, or at least the 

Tyne ? 
So may we the state-corpulence redress, 
And little England, when we please, make less. 
What ethic river is this wond'rous Tweed, 
Whose one bank virtue, t'other vice, does 

breed ? 
Or what new i3erpendicular does rise. 
Up from her streams, continued to the skies, 



OF MAR YELL. 131 

That between us tlie common air slioukl bar,. 
And split the influence of every star ? 
But who considers right, will find indeed, 
'Tis Holy Island parts us, not the Tweed. 
Nothing but clergy could us two seclude. 
No Scotch was ever like a bishop's feud- 
All Litanies in this have wanted faith, 
Tl^ere's no deliver us from a bishop's ivratJi. 
Never shall Calvin pardoned be for sales, \ 

Never, for Burnet's sake, the Lauderdales ; C 
For Becket's sake, Kent always shall have tales. ) 
Who sermons e'er can pacify and prayers ? 
Or to the joint stools reconcile the chairs ? 
Though kingdoms join, yet church will kirk 

oppose ; 
The mitre still divides, the crown does close ; 
As in Rogation week they whip us round, 
To keep in time the Scotch and English bound. 
What the ocean binds is by the bishops rent, 
As seas make islands in the continent. 
Nature in vain us in one land compiles, 
If the cathedral still shall have its isles. 
Nothing, not bogs nor sands nor seas nor Alps, 
Separates the world so as the bishops scalps ; 
Stretch for the line their surcingle alone, 
'Twill make a more inhabitable zone. 
The friendly loadstone has not more combined, 
Than bishops cramped the commerce of mankind. 
Had it not been for such a bias strong. 
Two nations ne'er had missed the mark so long. 



132 THE POEMS 

The world in all doth but two nations bear, 
The good, the bad, and these mixed everywhere ; 
Under each pole place either of these two, 
The bad will basely, good will bravely, do ; 
And few, indeed, can parallel our climes, 
For worth heroic, or heroic crimes. 
The trial would, however, be too nice, 
Which stronger were, a Scotch or English vicg ; 
Or whether the same virtue would reflect, 
From Scotch or English heart, the same effect. 
Nation is all but name, a Shibboleth, 
Where a mistaken accent causes death. 
In Paradise names only nature showed, 
At Babel names from pride and discord flowed ; 
And ever since men, with a female spite, 
First call each other names, and then they fight. 
Scotland and England cause a just uproar ; 
Do man and wife signify rogue and whore ? 
Say but a Scot and straight we flill to sides ; 
That syllable like a Picts' wall divides. 
Rational men's words pledges are of peace ; 
Perverted, serve dissension to increase. 
For shame extirpate from each loyal breast 
That senseless rancour, against interest. 
One king, one faith, one language, and one isle, 
English and Scotch, 'tis all but cross and pile. 
Charles, our great soul, this only understands ; 
He our affections both, and wills, commands ; 
And where twin-sympathies cannot alone. 
Knows the last secret, how to make us one. 



OF MARVELL. 133 

Just SO the prudent husbandman, that sees 
The idle tumult of his factious bees, 
The morning dews, and flowers, neglecte-d grown, 
The hive a comb-case, every bee a drone. 
Powders them o'er, till none discerns his foes, 
And all themselves in meal and friendshi]? lose ; 
The insect kingdom straight begins to thrive. 
And all work honey for the common hive. 

Pardon, young hero, this so long transport, 
Thy death more noble did the same extort. 
My former satire for this verse forget. 
My fault against my recantation set. 
I single did against a nation write. 
Against a nation thou didst singly fight. 
My differing crimes do more thy virtue raise. 
And, such my rashness, best thy valour praise. 

Here Douglas smiling said, he did intend, 
After such frankness shown, to be his friend, 
Forewarned him therefore, lest in time he were 
Metempsychos'd to some Scotch Presbyter. 



134 THE POEMS 



A HORATIAN ODE 
uroN Cromwell's return from Ireland. 

The forward youth that would appear, 
Must now forsake his muses dear, 

Nor in the shadows sing 

His numbers languishing : 
'Tis time to leave the books in dust. 
And oil the unused armour's rust. 

Removing from the wall 

The corselet of the hall. 
So restless Cromwell could not cease 
In the inglorious arts of peace, 

But through adventurous war 

Urged his active star ; 
And, like the three-forked lightning, first 
Breaking the clouds where it was nurst, 

Did thorough his own side 

His fiery way divide ; 
(For 'tis all one to courage high, 
The emulous, or enemy, 

And with such to inclose. 

Is more than to oppose ;) 



OF MARVELL. 

Then burning through the air he went, 
And palaces and temples rent ; 
And Caesar's head at last 
Did through his laurels blast. 
'Tis madness to resist or blame 
The force of angry heaven's flame ; 
And if we would speak true, 
Much to the man is due, 
Who from his private gardens, where 
He lived reserved and austere. 
As if his highest plot 
To plant the bergamot, 
Could by industrious valour climb 
To ruin the great work of Time, 
And cast the kingdoms old, 
Into another mould. 
Though Justice against Fate complain, 
And plead the ancient rights in vain, 
[But those do hold or break, 
As men are strong or weak,] 
Nature, that hateth emptiness. 
Allows of penetration less. 

And therefore must make room 
Where greater spirits come. 
What field of all the civil war. 
Where his w^ere not the deepest scar ? 
And Hampton shows what part 
He had of wiser art ; 
Where, twining subtile fears with hope, 
He wove a net of such a scope 



105 



136 THE POEMS 

That Charles himself might chase 
To Carisbrook's narrow case, 
That thence the royal actor borne, 
The tragic scaffold might adorn. 

While round the armed bands. 
Did clap their bloody hands : 
He nothing common did, or mean, , 
Upon that memorable scene, 

But with his keener eye 
The axe's edge did try ; 
Nor called the gods with vulgar spite 
To vindicate his helpless right, 

But bowed his comely head 
Down, as upon a bed. 
This was that memorable hour, 
Which first assured the forced power; 
So, when they did design 
The Capitol's first line, 
A bleeding head, where they begun, 
Did fright the architects to run ; 
And yet in that the state 
Foresaw its happy fate. 
And now the Irish are ashamed 
To see themselves in one year tamed ; 
So much one man can do. 
That does both act and know. 
They can affirm his praises best, 
And have, though overcome, confessed 
How good he is, how just, 
And fit for highest trust. 



OF MARYELL. 137 

Xor yet grown stiffer with command, 
But still in the republic's hand, 

(How fit he is to swaj. 

That can so well obey !) 
He to the Commons' feet presents 
A kingdom for his 'first year's rents ; 

And, what he may, forbears 

His fame, to make it theirs ; 
And has his sword and spoils ungirt. 
To lay them at the public's skirt : 

So when the falcon high 

Falls heavy from the sky, 
She, having killied, no more doth search, 
But on the next green bough to perch ; 

Where, when he first does lure, 

The falconer has her sure. 
What may not then our isle presume. 
While victory his crest does plume? 

What may not others fear, 

If thus he crowns each year ? 
A.S Caesar, he, ere long, to Gaul, 
To Italy a Hannibal, 

And to all states not free, 

Shall climacteric be. 
The Pict no shelter now shall find 
Within his party-coloured mind, 

But, from this valour sad. 

Shrink underneath the plaid ; 
Happy, if in the tufted brake. 
The English hunter him mistake, 



138 THE POEMS 

Nor lay his hounds in near 
Tlie Caledonian deer. 

But thou, the war's and fortune's son, 

March indefatigably on, 

And for the last effect, 
Still keep the sword erect ; 

Beside the force it has to fright 

The spirits of the shady night, 

The same arts that did gain 
A power, must it maintain. 



OF MAR YELL. 139 



THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY 

OF 

THE GOVERNMENT UNDER HIS HIGHNESS 

THE LORD PEOTECTOE. 

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, 
Which in smootli streams a sinking weight doth 

raise, 
So man, declining, always disappears 
In the weak circles of increasing years ; 
And his short tumults of themselves compose, 
While flowing time above his head doth close. 

Cromwell alone, with greater vigour runs 
(Sun-like) the stages of succeeding suns. 
And still the day which he doth next restore. 
Is the just wonder of the day before ; 
Cromwell alone doth with new lustre spring, 
And shines the jewel of the yearly ring. 
'Tis he the force of scattered time contracts, 
And in one year the work of ages acts ; 
While heavy m-onarchs make a wide return, 
Longer and more malignant than Saturn, 



140 THE POEMS 

And thej, tliough all Platonic years should 

reign, 
In the same posture would be found again ; 
Their earthlj'' projects under ground they lay, 
More slow and brittle than the China clay ; 
Well may they strive to leave them on their 

son, 
For one thing never was by one king done. 
Yet some, more active, for a frontier town 
Took in by proxy, begs a false renown ; 
Another triumphs at the public cost, 
And will have won, if he no more have lost ; 
They light by others, but in person Avrong, 
And only are against their subjects strong ; 
Their other wars are but a feigned contest. 
This common enemy is still opprest ; 
If conquerors, on them they turn their might, 
If conquered, on them they wreak their spite ; 
They neither build the temple in their days, 
Nor matter for succeeding founders raise ; 
Nor sacred prophecies consult within. 
Much less themselves to perfect them begin ; 
No other care they bear of things above. 
But with astrologers, divine of Jove, 
To know how long their planet yet reprieves • 
From the deserved fate their guilty lives. 
Thus (image-like) a useless time they tell. 
And with vain sceptre strike the hourly bell, 
Nor more contribute to the state of things, 
Than wooden heads unto the viol's strings, 



OF MARVKLL. 141 

"While indefatigcable Cromwell tries, 
And cuts his way still nearer to the skies, 
Learning a music in the region clear. 
To tune this lower to that higher sphere. 

So when Amphion did the lute command, 
Which the God gave him., with his gentle hand, 
The rougher stones, unto his measures hewed, 
Danced up in order from the quarries rude ; 
This took a lower, that a higher place. 
As he the treble altered, or the base ; 
No note he struck, but a new story laid. 
And the great work ascended while he played. 

The listening structures he with wonder eyed, 
And still new stops to various time applied ; 
Now through the strings a martial rage he 

throws, 
And joining, straight the Theban tower arose ; 
Then as he strokes them with a touch more 

sweet. 
The flocking marbles in a palace meet ; 
But for he most the graver notes did try. 
Therefore the temples reared their columns high : 
Thus, ere he ceased, his sacred lute creates 
The harmonious city of the seven gates. . 
Such was that wondrous order and consent, 
When Cromwell tuned the ruling instrument ; , 
While tedious statesmen many years did hack, 
Framing a liberty that still went back ; 



142 THE POEMS 

\Yhose numerous gorge could swallow in an hour, 
That island which the sea cannot devour : 
Then our Amphion issues out and sings, 
And once he struck, and twice the powerful 

strings. 
The Commonwealth then first together came, 
And each one entered in the willing frame. 

All other matter yields, and may be ruled, 
But who the minds of stubborn men can build ? 
No quarry bears a stone so hardly wrought, 
Nor with such labour from its centre brought : 
None to be sunk in the foundation bends. 
Each in the house the highest place contends ; 
And each the hand that lays him will direct. 
And some fall back upon the architect ; 
Yet all, com2:)Osed by his attractive song. 
Into the animated city throng. 

The Commonwealth does through their cen- 
tres all 
Draw the circumference of the public wall ; 
The crossest spirits here do take their part, 
Fastening the contignation which they thwart : 
And they whose nature leads them to divide, 
Uphold, this one, and that the other side ; 
But the most equal still sustain the height. 
And they, as pillars, keep the work upright, 
While the resistance of opposed minds, 
The fabric, as with arches, stronger binds, 



OF MARVELL. 143 

Which, on the basis of a senate free, 

Knit by the roof's protecting weight, agree. 

When for his foot he thus a place had found, 
He hurls e'er since the world about him round ; 
And in his several aspects, like a star. 
Here shines in peace, and thither shoots a war, 
While by his beams observing princes steer, 
And wisely court the influence they fear. 
O, would they rather, by his pattern won. 
Kiss the approaching, nor yet angry sun, 
And in their numbered footsteps humbly tread 
The path where holy oracles do lead, 
How might they under such a captain raise 
The great designs kept for the latter days ! 
But mad with reason, [so miscalled] of state. 
They know them not, and what they know not, 

hate. 
Hence still they sing Hosanna to the whore, 
And, him whom they should massacre, adore ; 
But Indians, whom they should convert, subdue, 
Nor teach, but traffic with, or burn the Jew. 
Unhappy princes, ignorantly bred. 
By malice some, by error more misled. 
If gracious Heaven to my life give length, 
Leisure to time, and to my weakness strength, 
Then shall I once with graver accents shake 
Your regal sloth and your long slumbers wake, 
Like the shrill huntsman that prevents the east, 
Winding his horn to kinsfs that chase the beast ! 



144 THE POEMS 

Till then mj muse shall halloo far behind 
Angelic Cromwell, who outwings the wind, 
And in dark nights, and in cold days, alone 
Pursues the monster thorough every throne. 
Which shrinking to her Roman den impure. 
Gnashes her gory teeth ; nor there secure. 

Hence oft I think, if in some happy hour 
High grace should meet in one with highest 

power, 
And then a seasonable people still 
Should bend to his, as he to Heaven's will. 
What we might hope, what wonderful effect 
From such a wished conjuncture might reflect ! 
Sure, the mysterious work, where none with- 
stand, 
Would forthwith finish under such a hand ; 
Foreshortened time its useless course would stay. 
And soon precipitate the latest day : 
But a thick cloud about that morning lies. 
And intercepts the beams to mortal eyes, 
That 'tis the most which we determine can. 
If these the times, then this must be the man ; 
And well he therefore does, and well has guessed, 
Who in his age has always forward pressed 
And knowing not where Heaven's choice may 

light. 
Girds yet his sword, and ready stands to fight. 
But men, alas ! as if they nothing cared. 
Look on, all unconcerned, or unprepared ; 



OF MARYELL. 145 

And stars still fall, and still the dragon's tail 
Swinges the volumes of its horrid flail ; 
For the great justice that did first suspend 
The world by sin, does by the same extend. 
Hence that blest day still counterpoised wastes, 
The ill delaying, what the elected hastes ; 
Hence, landing, Nature to new seas is tost, 
And good designs still with their authors lost. 

And thou, great Cromwell, for whose happy 
birth 
A mould was chosen out of better earth. 
Whose saint-like mother we did lately see 
Live out an age, long as a pedigree. 
That she might seem, could we the fall dispute, 
To have smelt the blossom, and not eat the fruit, — 
Though none does of more lasting parents grow, 
Yet never any did them honour so. 
Though thou thine heart from evil still sus- 
tained. 
And always hast thy tongue from fraud refrained. 
Thou, who so oft through storms of thundering 

lead 
Hast borne securely thine undaunted head ; 
Thy breast through poniarding conspiracies, 
Drawn from the sheath of lying prophecies, 
The proof beyond all other force or skill. 
Our sins endanger, and shall one day kill. 
How near they foiled, and in thy sudden fall, 
At once assayed to overturn us all ? 
10 



146 THE rOEMS 

Our British fury, struggling to be free. 
Hurried thy horses, while they hurried thee ; 
TVlien thou hadst almost quit thy mortal cares, 
And soiled in dust thy crown of silver hairs. 

Let this one sorrow interweave among 
The other glories of our yearly song ; 
Like skilful looms, which through the costly 

thread 
Of purling ore, a shining wave do shed. 
So shall the tears we on past grief employ, 
Still as they trickle, glitter in our joy ; 
So with more modesty we may be true, 
And speak, as of the dead, the praises due, 
While impious men, deceived with pleasure 

short. 
On their own hopes shall find the foil retort. 

But the poor beasts, wanting their noble guide, 
[What could they more ?] shrunk guiltily aside : 
First winged fear transports them far away. 
And leaden sorrow then their tlight did stay. 
See how they both their towering crests abate, 
And the green grass and their known mangers 

hate, 
^or through wide nostrils snufF the wanton air, 
Xor their round hoofs or curled manes compare; 
With wandering eyes and restless ears they 

stood. 
And with shrill neisrhinirs asked him of the wood. 



OF MAKVELL. 147 

Thou, Cromwell, falling, not a stupid tree, 
Or rock so savage, but it mourned for thee ; 
And all about was heard a panic groan. 
As if that nature's self were overthrown. 
It seemed the earth did from the centre tear, 
It seemed the sun was fallen from his sphere : 
Justice obstructed lay, and reason fooled. 
Courage disheartened, and religion cooled ; 
A dismal silence through the palace went, 
And then loud shrieks the vaulted marbles rent : 
Such as the dying chorus sings by turns, 
And to deaf seas and ruthless tempests mourns. 
When now they sink, and now the plundering 

streams. 
Break up each deck and rip the open seams. 

But thee triumphant, hence, the JSery car 
And fiery steeds had borne out of the war. 
From the low world and thankless men, above 
Unto the kingdom blest of peace and love : 
We only mourned ourselves in thine ascent, 
Whom thou hadst left beneath with mantle rent, 
For all delight of life thou then didst lose. 
When to command thou didst thyself depose. 
Resigning up thy privacy so dear. 
To turn the headstrong people's charioteer ; 
For to be Cromwell was a greater thing. 
Than aught below, or yet above, a king : 
Therefore thou rather didst thyself depress. 
Yielding to rule, because it made thee less. 



148 THE POEMS 

For neither didst thou from the first apply 
Thy sober spirit unto things too high ; 
But in thine own fields exercisedst long 
A healthful mind within a body strong, 
Till at the seventh time, thou in the skies. 
As a small cloud, like a man's hand didst rise ; 
Then did thick mists and winds the air deform. 
And down at last thou pouredst the fertile storm 
Which to the thirsty land did plenty bring ; 
But thou, forewarned, o'ertook and wet the king. 
What since thou didst, a higher force thee pushed 
Still from behind, and it before thee rushed. 
Though undiscerned among tlie tumult blind, 
Who think those high decrees by man designed, 
Twas Heaven would not that ere thy power 

should cease, 
But walk still middle betwixt war and peace ; 
Choosing each stone, and poising every weight. 
Trying the measures of the breadth and height. 
Here pulling down, and there erecting new, 
Founding a firm state by proportions true. 

When Gideon so did from the war retreat, 
Yet by the conquest of two kings grown great. 
He on the peace extends a warlike power, 
And Israel, silent, saw him rase the tower, 
And how he Succoth's elders durst suppress 
With thorns and briars of the wilderness ; 
No kino; mio;ht ever such a force have done, 
Yet would not he be lord, nor yet his son. 




OF MARVELL. 149 

Thou with the same strength, and a heart so 
plain, 
Didst like thine olive still refuse to reign ; 
Though why should others all thy labour spoil, 
And brambles be anointed with thine oil, 
Whose climbing flame, without a timely stop. 
Had quickly levelled every cedar's top ? 
Therefore, first growing to thyself a law. 
The ambitious shrubs thou in just time didst awe. 

So have I seen at sea, when whirling winds 
Hurry the bark, but more the seamen's minds, 
Who with mistaken course salute the sand. 
And threatening rocks misapprehend for land, — 
While baleful tritons to the shipwreck guide, 
And corposants* along the tacklings slide, — 
The passengers all wearied out before. 
Giddy, and wishing for the fatal shore, — 
Some lusty mate, who with more careful eye. 
Counted the hours, and every star did spy. 
The helm does from the artless steersman strain, 
And doubles back unto the safer main : 
What though awhile they grumble, discontent ? 
Saving himself, he does their loss prevent. 

'Tis not a freedom that, where all command. 
Nor tyranny, where one does them withstand ; 



* Marine meteors, which Portuguese mariners call the 
Bodies of the Saiuts ; corpos santos. 



150 THE POEMS 

But who of both the bounders knows to lay, 
Him, as their father, must the state obey. 

Thou and thy house, like Noah's eight did rest, 
Left by the war's flood, on the mountain's crest ; 
And the large vale lay subject to thy will. 
Which thou but as an husbandman, wouldst till ; 
And only didst for others plant the vine 
Of Liberty, not drunken with its wine. 

That sober liberty which men may have, 
That they enjoy, but more they vainly crave ; 
And such as to their parent's tents do press, 
May show their own, not see his nakedness. 

Yet such a clammish issue still doth rage, 
The shame and plague both of the land and age, 
Who watched thy halting, and thy fall divide. 
Rejoicing when thy foot had slipped aside, 
That their new king might the fifth sceptre 

shake. 
And make the world, by his example, quake ; 
Whose frantic army, should they want for men. 
Might muster heresies, so one were ten. 
What thy misfortune, they the spirit call. 
And their religion only is to fall. 
Oh Mahomet ! now couldst thou rise again, 
Thy falling-sickness should have made thee reign ; 
While Feak and Simpson would in many a tome 
Have writ the comments of thy sacred foam : 



OF MARVELL. 151 

For soon thou miglit'st have passed among their 

rant, 
Wer't but for thine unmoved tulipant ; 
As thou must needs have owned them of thy 

band, 
For prophecies fit to be alcoraned. 

Accursed locusts, whom your king does spit 
Out of the centre of the unbottomed pit ; 
Wanderers, adulterers, liars, Muntzer's rest. 
Sorcerers, atheists, Jesuits, possest, 
You, who the Scriptures and the laws deface, 
With the same liberty as points and lace ; 
O race ! most hypocritically strict, 
Bent to reduce us to the ancient Pict, 
Well may you act the Adam and the Eve, 
Ay, and the serpent too, that did deceive. 

But the great captain, now the danger's o'er. 
Makes you, for his sake, tremble one fit more ; 
And, to your spite, returning yet alive. 
Does with himself, all that is good, revive. 

So, \.'hen first man did through the morning dew, 
See the bright sun his shining race pursue, 
All day he followed, with unwearied sight. 
Pleased with that other world of moving li<]rht ; 
But thought him, when he missed his setting 

beams. 
Sunk in the hills, or plunged below the streams, 



152 THE POEMS 

While dismal blacks hung round the universe, 
And stars, like tapers, burned upon his hearse ; 
And owls and ravens with their screeching noise^ 
Did make their funerals sadder by their joys. 
His weeping eyes the doleful vigils keep, 
Not knowing yet the night was made for sleep. 
Still to the west, where he him lost, he turned. 
And with such accents, as despairing, mourned ; 
" Why did mine eyes once see so bright a ray ? 
Or why day last no longer than a day ? " 
When straight the sun behind him he descried, 
Smiling serenely from the further side. 

So while our star that gives us light and heat, 
Seemed now a long and gloomy night to threat. 
Up from the other world his flame doth dart. 
And princes, shining through their windows, start ; 
Who their suspected counsellors refuse. 
And credulous ambassadors accuse : 
'• Is this," saith one, " the nation that we read, 
" Spent with both wars, under a captain dead ! 
" Yet rig a navy, while we dress us late, 
'' And ere we dine, rase and rebuild a state ? 
" Wliat oaken forests, and what golden mines ! 
" What mints of men, what union of designs ! 
" Unless their ships do as their fowl proceed 
*'0f shedding leaves, that with their ocean 

breed. 
" Theirs are not ships, but rather arks of war, 
" And beaked promontories sailed from far ; 



OF MARVELL. 153 

*' Of floating islands a new hatched nest, 

'' A fleet of ^Yorlds of other worlds in quest ; 

•' An hideous shoal of wood Leviathans, 

'' Armed with three tire of brazen hurricanes, 

•• That through the centre shoot their thundering 

side, 
" And sink the earth, that does at anchor ride. 
" What refuge to escape them can be found, 
'' Whose watery leaguers all the world surround ? 
'• Needs must we all their tributaries be, 
" Whose navies hold the sluices of the sea ! 
" The ocean is the fountam of command, 
" But that once took, we captives are on land ; 
" And those that have the waters for their share, 
" Can quickly leave us neither earth nor air ; 
" Yet if through these our fears could find a pass 
" Through double oak, and lined with treble 

brass ; 
" That one man still, although but named, alarms 
" More than all men, all navies, and all arms ; 
"' Him all the day, him in late nights I dread, 
" And still his sword seems hanging o'er my head. 
" The nation had been ours, but his one soul 
" Moves the great bulk, and animates the whole, 
"• He secrecy with number hath inchased, 
'• Courage with age, maturity with haste ; 
" The valiant's terror, riddle of the wise, 
" And still his falchion all our knots unties. 
" Where thd he learn those arts that cost us dear ? 
*• Where below earth, or where above the sphere ? 



154 THE POEMS 

" He seems a king by long succession born, 
" And yet the same to be a king doth scorn. 
" Abroad a king he seems, and something more, 
"At home a subject on the equal floor; 
" Or could I once him Avith our title see, 
" So should I hope yet he might die as we. 
" But let them write his praise that love him best, 
" It grieves me sore to have thus much confest." 

Pardon, great Prince, if thus their fear or spite, 
More than our love and duty do thee right ; 
I yield, nor further will the prize contend, 
So that we both alike may miss our end ; 
While thou thy venerable head dost raise 
As far above their malice as my praise ; 
And, as the angel of our commonweal, 
Troubling the waters, yearly mak'st them heal. 



OF MARVELL. 155 



A POEM 

UPON THE DEATH OF HIS LATE HIGHNESS THE 
LORD PROTECTOR. 

That Providence which had so long the care 
Of Cromwell's head, and numbered every hair, 
Now in itself (the glass where all appears) 
Had seen the period of his golden years, 
And thenceforth only did attend to trace - 
What death might least so fair a life deface. 

The people, which, what most they fear, 
esteem. 
Death when more horrid, so more noble deem. 
And blame the last act, like spectators vain. 
Unless the Prince whom they applaud, be slain ; 
Nor fate indeed can well refuse the right 
To those that lived in war, to die in fight. 

But long his valour none had left that could 
Endanger him, or clemency that would ; 
And he (whom nature all for peace had made, 
But angry heaven unto war had swayed, 



156 THE POEMS 

And so less useful where he most desired, 
For what he least affected, was admired ;) 
Deserved yet an end whose every part 
Should speak the wondrous softness of his heart. 
To Love and Grief the fatal writ was signed, 
(Those nobler weaknesses of human kind, 
From which those Powers that issued the decree, 
Although immortal, found they were not free) 
That they to whom his breast still open lies 
In gentle passions, should his death disguise, 
And leave succeeding ages cause to mourn, 
As long as grief shall weep, or love shall burn. 

Straight does a slow and languishing disease, 
Eliza,* Nature's, and his darling, seize ; 
Her, when an infant, taken with her charms, 
He oft would flourish in his mighty arms. 
And lest their force the tender burthen wrong, 
Slacken the vigour of his muscles strong, 
Then to the mother's breast her softly move, 
Which, while she drained of milk, she filled with 

love. 
But as with riper years her virtue grew, 
And every minute adds a lustre new ; 



* Elizabeth, Lady Claypole, the Protector's favorite daugh- 
ter, died on Friday, 6th August, 1658. " But as to his High- 
ness, it was observed that his sense of her outward misery 
in the pains she endured, took deep impression on him." 
Maidston, quoted in Carlyle's Cromwell, vol. ii. p. 402, 
(American edition.) 



OP MARVELL. 157 

Wlien with meridian height her beauty shined, 
And thorough that sparkled her fairer mind ; 
AVhen she with smiles serene, in words discreet, 
His hidden soul at every turn could meet ; 
Then might you've daily his affection spied, 
Doubling that knot which destiny had tied, 
While they by sense, not knowing, comprehend 
How on each other both their fates depend. 
With her each day the pleasing hours he shares, 
And at her aspect calms his growing cares ; 
Or with a grandsire's joy her children sees. 
Hanging about her neck, or at his knees : 
Hold fast, dear infants, hold them both, or none ; 
This will not stay, when once the other's gone. 
A silent fire now wafts those limbs of wax. 
And him within his tortured image racks. 
So the flower withering, which the garden 

crowned. 
The sad root pines in secret under ground. 
Each groan he doubled, and each sigh she sighed, 
Repeated over to the restless night ; 
No trembling string, composed to numbers new. 
Answers the touch in notes more sad, more true. 
She, lest he grieve, hides what she can, her pains. 
And he, to lessen her's, his sorrow feigns ; 
Yet both perceived, yet both concealed their 

skills, 
And so, diminishing, increased their ills. 
That whether by each other's grief they fell, 
Or on their own redoubled, none can tell. 



158 THE POEMS 

And now Eliza's purple locks were shorn, 
Where she so long her father's fate had worn ; 
And frequent lightning to her soul that flies, 
Divides the air and opens all the skies. 
And now his life, suspended by her breath, 
Ran out impetuously to hastening Death. 
Like polished mirrors, so his steely breast 
Had every figure of her woes exprest. 
And with the damp of her last gasps obscured, 
Had drawn such stains as were not to be cured. 
Fate could not either reach with single stroke, 
But, the dear image fled, the mirror broke. 
Who now shall tell us more of mournful swans. 
Of halcyons kind, or bleeding pelicans ? 
No downy breast did e'er so gently beat, 
Or fan with airy plumes so soft a heat ; 
For he no duty by his height excused. 
Nor, though a prince, to be a man refused ; 
But rather than in his Eliza's pain 
Not love, not grieve, would neither live nor 

reign ; 
And in himself so oft immortal tried. 
Yet in compassion of another died. 

So have I seen a vine, whose lasting age, 
Of many a winter hath survived the rage, 
Under whose shady tent, men every year. 
At its rich blood's expense their sorrows cheer j 
If some dear branch where it extends its life, 
Chance to be pruned by an untimely knife. 



OF MARVELL. 159 

The parent tree unto the grief succeeds, 
And through the wound its vital humour bleeds, 
Trickling in watery drops, whose flowing shape 
"Weeps that it falls ere fixed into a grape ; 
So the dry stock, no more that spreading vine. 
Frustrates the autumn, and the hopes of wine. 

A secret cause does sure those signs ordain, 
Foreboding princes' falls, and seldom vain : . 
Whether s.ome kinder powers, that wish us well. 
What they above cannot prevent, foretell ; 
Or the great world do by consent presage, 
As hollow seas with future tempests rage ; 
Or rather Heaven, which us so long foresees. 
Their funerals celebrates, while it decrees. 
But never yet was any human fate 
By nature solemnized with so much state : 
He unconcerned the dreadful passage crost, 
But oh ! what pangs that death did Nature cost ! 

First the great thunder was shot off, and 

sent 
The signal from the starry battlement : 
The winds receive it, and its force outdo, 
As practising how they could thunder too ; 
Out of the binder's hand the sheaves they tore. 
And thrashed the harvest in the airy floor ; 
Or of huge trees, whose growth with his did 

rise. 
The deep foundations opened to the skies ; 



ICO THE POEMS 

Then heavy showers the winged tempests lead, 
And pour the deluge o'er the chaos' head. 
The race of warlike horses at his tomb, 
Offer themselvei? in many a hecatomb ; 
AVith pensive head towards the ground they fall, 
And helpless languish at the tainted stall. 
Numbers of men decrease with pains unknown. 
And hasten (not to see his death) their own. 
Such tortures all the elements unfixed, 
Troubled to part where so exactly mixed ; 
And as through air his wasting spirits flowed. 
The world with throes laboured beneath their 
load. 

Nature, it seemed, with him would nature vie, 
He with Ehza, it with him would die. 

He without noise still travelled to his end. 
As silent suns to meet the night descend ; 
The stars that for him fought, had only power 
Left to determine now his fatal hour. 
Which since they might not hinder, yet they 

cast 
To choose it worthy of his glories past. 
No part of time but bare his mark away 
Of honour, — all the year was Cromwell's day ; 
But this, of all the most auspicious found, 
Twice had in open field him victor crowned, 
When up the armed mountains of Dunbar 
He marched, and through deep Severn, ending war: 



OF MARTELL. 161 

What dav should him eternize, but the same 
That had before immortalized his name, 
That so whoe'er would at his death have joyed. 
In their own griefs might find themselves em- 
ployed, 
But those that sadlv his departure grieved. 
Yet joyed, remembering what he once achieved ? 
And the last minute his victorious ghost 
Gave chase to Ligny on the Belgic coast ; 
Here ended all his mortal toils, he laid 
And slept in peace under the laurel-shade. 

O Cromwell ! Heaven's favourite, to none. 
Have such high honours from above been 

shown, 
For whom the elements we mourners see. 
And Heaven itself would the great herald be. 
Which with more cai*e set forth his obsequies 
Than those of Moses, hid from human eyes ; 
As jealous only here, lest all be less 
Than we could to his memory express. 

Then let us too our course of mourning keep ; 
Where Heaven leads, 'tis piety to weep. 
Stand back ye seas, and shrunk beneath the veil 
Of your abyss, with covered head bewail 
Your monarch : we demand not your supplies 
To compass-in our isle, — our tears suffice. 
Since him away the dismal tempest rent, 
Who once more joined us to the continent ; 
11 



162 THE POEMS 

Who planted England on the Flanderic shore, 
And stretched our frontier to the Indian ore ; 
Whose greater truths obscure the fables old, 
Whether of British saints or worthies told, 
And in a valour lessening Arthur's deeds, 
For holiness the Confessor exceeds. 

He first put arms into Religion's hand, 
And timorous conscience unto courage manned ; 
The soldier taught that inward mail to wear. 
And fearing God, how thej should nothing 

fear ; 
Those strokes, he said, will pierce through all 

below, 
Where those that strike from Heaven fetch their 

blow. 
Astonished armies did their flight prepare, 
And cities strong were stormed by his prayer ; 
Of that forever Preston's field shall tell 
The stor)', and impregnable Clonmel, 
And where the sandy mountain Fenwick scaled, 
The sea between, yet hence his prayer prevailed. 
What man was ever so in Heaven obeyed 
Since the commanded sun o'er Gibeon stayed ? 
In all his wars needs must he triumph, when 
He conquered Gi^d, still ere he fought with men : 
Hence, though in battle none so brave or fierce, 
Yet him the adverse steel could never pierce ; 
Pity it seemed to hurt him more, that felt 
Each wound himself which he to others dealt, 



OF MARVELL. 163 

Danger itself refusing to offend 

So loose an enemy, so fast a friend. 

Friendship, that sacred virtue, long does claim 

The first foundation of his house and name : 

But within one its narrow limits fall. 

His tenderness extended unto all, 

And that deep soul through every channel flows, 

Where kindly Nature loves itself to lose. 

More strong affections never reason served, 

Yet still affected most what best deserved. 

If he Eliza loved to that degree, 

(Though who more worthy to be loved than 

she ?) 
If so indulgent to his own, how dear 
To him the children of the Highest were I 
For her he once did Nature's tribute pay ; 
For these his life adventured every day ; 
And 'twould be found, could we his thoughts have 

cast. 
Their griefs struck deepest, if Eliza's last. 
What prudence more than human did he need 
To keep so dear, so differing minds agreed ? 
The wor&er sort, so conscious of their ill, 
Lie weak and easy to the ruler's will ; 
But to the good (too many or too few) 
All law is useless, all reward is due. 
Oh ! ill-advised, if not for love, for shame. 
Spare yet your own, if you neglect his fame ; 
Lest others dare to think your zeal a mask, 
And you to govern only Heaven's task. 



164 THE POEMS 

Valour. Religion, Friendship, Prudence died 
At once with him, and all that's good beside ; 
And we, Death's refuge, Nature's dregs, confined 
To loathsome life, alas ! are left behind. 
Where ^ve (so once we used) shall now no more, 
To fetch day, press about his chamber-door, 
From which he issued with that awful state, 
It seemed Mars broke through Janus' double 

gate, 
Yet always tempered with an air so mild, 
No April suns that e'er so gently smiled ; 
No more shall hear that powerful language 

charm, 
Whose force oft spared the labour of his arm ; 
No more shall follow where he spent the days 
In war, in counsel, or in prayer and praise. 
Whose meanest acts he would himself advance. 
As ungirt David to the ark did dance. 
All, all is gone of ours or his delight 
In horses fierce, wild deer, or armour bright ; 
Francisca fair can nothing now but weep, 
Nor with soft notes shall sing his cares asleep. 

I saw him dead : a leaden slumber lies. 
And mortal sleep over those wakeful eyes ; 
Those gentle rays under the lids were fled, 
Which through his looks that piercing sweetness 

shed ; 
That port, which so majestic was and strong, 
Loose, and deprived of vigour, stretched along ; 



OF MARVELL. 165 

All withered, all discoloured, pale and wan, 
How much another thing, no more that man ! 
0, human glory vain ! O, Death ! 0, wings ! 
0, worthless world ! O, transitory things ! 
Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed, 
That still though dead, greater than death he laid, 
And in his altered face you something feign 
That threatens Death, he yet will live again. 
Not much unlike the sacred oak, which shoots 
To Heaven its branches, and through earth its 

roots, 
"Whose spacious boughs are hung with trophies 

round. 
And honored wreaths have oft the victor 

crowned, 
When angry Jove darts lightning through the air 
At mortal sins, nor his own plant will spare. 
It groans and bruises all below, that stood 
So many years the shelter of the wood, 
The tree, erewhile foreshortened to our view, 
"When fall'n shows taller yet than as it grew ; 
So shall his praise to after times increase. 
When truth shall be allowed, and faction cease ; 
And his own shadows with him fall ; the eye 
Detracts from objects than itself more high ; 
But when Death takes them from that envied state, 
Seeing how little, we confess how great. 

Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse 
Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse : 



166 THE POEMS 

Singing of tliee, inflame himself to fight, 
And, with the name of Cromwell, armies fright. 
As long as rivers to the seas shall run. 
As long as Cynthia shall relieve the sun, 
While stags shall fly unto the forests thick. 
While sheep delight the grassy downs to pick, 
As long as future time succeeds the past. 
Always thy honour, praise and name, shall last ! 

Thou in a pitch how far beyond the sphere 
Of human glory tower'st, and reigning there 
Despoiled of mortal robes, in seas of bliss 
Plunging, dost bathe, and tread the bright abyss ! 
There thy great soul yet once a world doth see, 
Spacious enough and pure enough for thee. 
How soon thou Moses hast, and Joshua found, 
And David, for the sword and harp renowned ; 
How straight canst to each happy mansion go, 
(Far better known above than here below,) 
And in those joys dost spend the endless day, 
Which in expressing, we ourselves betray ! 

For we, since thou art gone, with heavy 

doom, 
Wander like ghosts about thy loved tomb. 
And lost in tears, have neither sight nor mind 
To guide us upward through this region blind ; 
Since thou art gone, who best that way couldst 

teach, 
Only our sighs, perhaps, may thither reach. 



OF MARVELL. 167 

And Richard yet, where his great parent led, 
Beats on the rugged track : he virtue dead 
Eevives, and by his milder beams assures ; 
And yet how much of them his grief obscures ! 
He, as his father, long was kept from sight 
In private, to be viewed by better light ; 
But opened once, what splendour does he throw ! 
A Cromwell in an hour a prince will grow. 
How he becomes that seat, how strongly strains, 
How gently winds at once the ruling reins ! 
Heaven to this choice prepared a diadem, 
Richer than any Eastern silk, or gem, 
A pearly rainbow, where the sun inchased. 
His brows like an imperial jewel graced. 

We find already what those omens mean. 
Earth ne'er more glad, nor Heaven more serene. 
Cease now our griefs, calm peace succeeds a war, 
Rainbows to storms, Richard to Oliver. 
Tempt not his clemency to try his power. 
He threats no deluge, yet foretells a shower. 



SATIRES. 



SATIRES 



THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND, 

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of 

land, 
As but the off-scourihg of the British sand, 
And so much earth as was contributed 
By English pilots when they heaved the lead, 
Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell 
Of shipwrecked cockle and the muscle-shell, — 
This indigested vomit of the sea 
Fell to the Dutch by just propriety. 

Glad then, as miners who have found the ore, 
They, with mad labour, fished the land to shore. 
And dived as desperately for each piece 
Of earth, as if 't had been of ambergreese, 
Collecting anxiously small loads of clay, 
Less than what building swallows bear away. 
Or than those pills which sordid beetles roll, 
Transfusing into them their dunghill soul. 



172 THE POEMS 

How did they rivet, with gigantic piles, 
Thorough the centre their new-catched miles, 
And to the stake a struggling country bound, 
Where barking waves still bait the forced 

ground, 
Building their watery Babel far more high 
To reach the sea, than those to scale the sky ! 

Yet still his claim the injured ocean laid, 
And oft at leap-frog o'er their steeples played, 
As if on purpose it on land had come 
To show them what's their mare liberum. 
A daily deluge over them does boil ; 
The earth and water play at level coil. 
The fish ofttimes the burgher dispossessed, 
And sat, not as a meat, but as a guest. 
And oft the Tritons and the sea-nymphs saw 
Whole shoals of Dutch served up for Cabillau, 
Or, as they over the new level ranged 
For pickled herring, pickled heerin changed. 
Nature, it seemed, ashamed of her mistake. 
Would throw their land away at duck and drake ; 
Therefore necessity, that first made kings. 
Something like government among them brings ; 
For, as with pygmies, who best kills the crane, 
Among the hungry he that treasures grain, 
Among the blind the one-eyed bhnkard reigns. 
So rules among the drowned he that drains : 
Not who first see the rising sun, commands. 
But who could first discern the rising lands ; 



OF MARYELL. 173 

Who best could know to pump an earth so leak, 
Him they their Lord, and Country's Father, 

speak ; 
To make a bank, was a great plot of state ; 
Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate. 
Hence some small dike-grave, unperceived, in- 
vades 
The power, and grows as 'twere a king of 

spades ; 
But, for less envy, some joined states endures, 
Who look like a commission of the sewers : 
For these Half-anders, half wet, and half dry. 
Nor bear strict service, nor pure liberty. 

'Tis probable religion, after this. 
Came next in order, which they could not miss ; 
How could the Dutch but be converted, when 
The Apostles were so many fishermen ? 
Besides, the waters of themselves did rise. 
And, as their land, so them did re-baptize. 
Though Herring for their God few voices missed, 
And Poor-John to have been the Evangelist, 
Faith, that could never twins conceive before, 
Never so fertile, spawned upon this shore 
More pregnant than their Marg'ret, that laid 

down 
For Hans-in-Kelder of a whole Hans-Town. 

Sure when religion did itself embark. 
And from the east would westward steer its ark, 



174 



THE POEMS 



It struck, and splitting on this unknown ground, 
Each one thence pillaged the first piece he 

found : 
Hence Amsterdam, Turk-Christian-Pagan-Jew, 
Staple of sects, and mint of schism grew. 
That bank of conscience, ^vhere not one so 

strange 
Opinion but finds credit, and exchange. 
In vain for Catholics ourselves we bear ; 
The universal church is only there. 
Nor can civility there want for tillage. 
Where wisely for their court they chose a 

village : 
How fit a title clothes their governors. 
Themselves the hogs, as all their subjects boors ! 

Let it suffice to give their country fame. 
That it had one Civilis called by name. 
Some fifteen hundred and more years ago. 
But surely never any that was so. 

See but their mermaids, with their tails of fish, 
Reeking at church over the chafing-dish ! 
A vestal turf, enshrined in earthen ware, 
Fumes through the loopholes of a wooden 

square ; 
Each to the temple with these altars tend, 
But still does place it at her western end. 
While the fat steam of female sacrifice 
Fills the priest's nostrils, and puts out his eyes. 



OF MARVELL. 175 

Or what a spectacle the skipper gross, 
A water Hercules, butter Coloss, 
Tunned up with all their several towns of beer ; 
When, stagg'ring upon some land, snick and 

sneer, 
Thej try, like statuaries, if they can, 
Cut out each other's Athos to a man. 
And carve in their large bodies, where they 

please, 
The arms of the United Provinces. 
But when such amity at home is showed. 
What then are their confederacies abroad ? 
Let this one courtesy witness all the rest. 
When their whole navy they together pressed. 
Not Christian captives to redeem from bands. 
Or intercept the western golden sands, 
No, but all ancient rights and leagues must fail, 
Rather than to the English strike their sail ; 
To whom their weather-beaten province owes 
Itself, when, as some greater vessel tows 
A cock-boat, tossed with the same wind and fate, 
We buoyed so often up their sinking state. 
Was this^MS belli etpacis? Could this be 
Cause why their burgomaster of the sea. 
Rammed with gunpowder, flaming with brand 

wine 
Should raging hold his linstock to the mine ? 
While, with feigned treaties, they invade by 

stealth 
Our sore new-circumcised commonwealth. 



176 THE POEMS 

Yet of Ills vain attempt no more he sees, 
Than of case-butter shot, and bullet cheese ; 
And the torn navy staggered with him home, 
While the sea laughed itself into a foam ; 
'Tis true, since that (as fortune kindly sports) 
A wholesome danger drove us to our ports, 
While half their banished keels the tempest 

tossed. 
Half bound at home in prison to the frost ; 
That ours, meantime, at leisure might careen, 
In a calm winter, under skies serene. 
As the obsequious air and waters rest, 
'Till the dear Halcyon hatch out all its nest. 
The commonwealth doth by its losses grow, 
And, like its own seas, only ebbs to flow ; 
Besides, that very agitation laves, 
And purges out the corruptible waves. 

And now again our armed Bucentore 
Doth yearly their sea-nuptials restore ; 
And now the Hydra of seven provinces 
Is strangled by our infant Hercules. 
Their tortoise wants its vainly stretched neck. 
Their navy, all our conquest, or our wreck. 
Or, what is left, their Carthage overcome, 
Would render fain unto our better Rome ; 
Unless our senate, lest their youth disuse 
The war, (but who would ?) peace, if begged refuse. 
For now of nothing may our state despair, 
Darling of heaven, and of men the care. 



OF MARVELL. 177 

Pj'ovided that they be, what they have been, 
AVatchful abroad, and honest still within ; 
For while our Neptune doth a trident shake, 
Steeled with those piercing heads, Dean, Monk, 

and Blake, 
And while Jove governs in the highest sphere, 
Vainly in hell let Pluto domineer. 



12 



178 THE P0EM3 



FLECNO, AN ENGLISH FKIEST AT ROME. 

Obliged by frequent visits of this man, 
"Whom as priest, poet, and musician, 
1 for some branch of Melchisedek took, 
(Though he derives himself from my Lord 

Brooke) 
I sought his lodging which is at the sign 
Of the sad Pelican, — subject divine 
For poetry ; — there, three stair-cases high. 
Which signifies his triple property, 
I found at last a chamber, as 'twas said. 
But seemed a coffin set on the stair's head ; 
Not higher than seven, nor larger than three feet, 
There neither was or ceiling, or a sheet, 
Save that the ingenious door did, as you come, 
Turn in, and show to wainscot half the room : 
Yet of his state no man could have complained. 
There being no bed where he entertained ; 
And though within one cell so narrow pent. 
He'd stanzas for a whole apartiment. 



OF MARVELL. 179 

Straight without farther information, 
In hideous verse, he in a dismal tone, 
Begins to exorcise, as if I were 
Possessed, — and sure the devil brought me 

there. 
But I, who now imagined myself brought 
To my last trial, in a serious thought 
Calmed the disorders of my youthful breast. 
And to my martyrdom prepared rest. 
Only this frail ambition did remain, 
The last distemper of the sober brain, 
That there had been some present to assure 
The future ages how I did endure, 
And how I, silent, turned my burning ear 
Towards the verse, and when that could not 

hear, 
Held him the other and unchanged yet. 
Asked him for more and prayed him to repeat. 
Till the tyrant, weary to persecute, 
Left off, and tried to allure me with his lute. 

Now as two instruments to the same key 
Being tuned by art, if the one touched be. 
The other opposite as soon replies. 
Moved by the air and hidden sympathies. 
So while he with his gouty fingers crawls 
Over the lute, his murmuring belly calls. 
Whose hungry guts, to the same straitness 

twined, 
In echo to the trenibling strings repined. 



180 THE POEMS 

I that perceived now ^vhat his music meant, 
Asked civilly, if he had eat his Lent ? 
He answered yes ; with such, and such a one, 
For he has this of generous, that alone 
He never feeds, save only when he tries 
With gristly tongue to dart the passing tlies. 
I asked if he eat flesh, and he, that was 
So hungry, that though ready to say mass. 
Would break his fast before, said he was sick, 
And the ordinance was only politic. 
Kor was I longer to invite him scant, 
Happy at once to make him Protestant 
And silent. Nothing now dinner stayed, 
But till he had himself a body made, 
I mean till he were dressed ; for else so thin 
He stands, as if he only fed had been 
With consecrated wafers, and the host 
Hath sure more flesh and blood than he can boast, 
This basso-relievo of a man. 
Who, as a camel tall, yet easily can 
The needle's eye thread without any stitch, 
(His only impossible is to be rich,) 
Lest his too subtle body, growing rare, 
Should leave his soul to wander in the air. 
He therefore circumscribes himself in rhymes, 
And swaddled in's own papers seven times, 
Wears a close jacket of poetic buff*. 
With which he doth his third dimension stuff. 
Thus armed underneath, he over ail 
Does make a primitive Sotana fall, 



OF MARVELL. 



181 



And above that yet casts an antique cloak, 
"Worn at the first council of Antioch, 
Which by the Jews long hid, and disesteemed. 
He heard of by tradition, and redeemed. 
But were he not in this black habit decked, 
This half transparent man would soon reflect 
Each colour that he past by, and be seen. 
As the chameleon, yellow, blue, or green. 

He dressed, and ready to disfurnish now 
His chamber, whose compactness did allow 
No empty place for complimenting doubt, 
But who came last is forced first to go out ; 
I meet one on the stairs who made me stand, 
Stopping the passage, and did him demand ; 
I answered, " he is here. Sir, but you see 
You cannot pass to him but thorough me." 
He thought himself affronted, and replied, 
" I, whom the palace never has denied, 
Will make the way here ; " I said, " Sir, 

you'll do 
Me a fjreat favour, for I seek to go." 
He, gathering fury, still made sign to draw, 
But himself closed in a scabbard saw 
As narrow as his sword's ; and I that was 
Delighted, said, " there can no body pass 
Except by penetration hither where 
To make a crowd, nor can three persons here 
Consist but in one substance." Then, to fit 
Our peace, the priest said I too had some wit ; 



182 THE POEMS 

To prov't, I said, " the place cloth us invite, 
By its own narrowness, Sir, to unite." 
He asked me pardon ; and to make me way 
Went down, as I him followed to obey. 
But the propitiatory priest had straight 
Obliged us, when below, to celebrate 
Together our atonement ; so increased 
Betwixt us two, the dinner to a feast. 

Let it suffice that we could eat in peace, 
And that both poems did, and quarrels, cease 
During the table, though my new made friend 
Did, as he threatened, ere 'twere long intend 
To be both witty and valiant ; I loath, 
Said 'twas too late, he was already both. 

But now, alas ! my first tormentor came, 
Who, satisfied with eating, but not tame, 
Turns to recite : though judges most severe. 
After the assizes' dinner, mild appear. 
And on full stomach do condemn but few. 
Yet he more strict my sentence doth renew, 
And draws out of the black box of his breast 
Ten quire of paper, in which he was dressed. 
Yet that which was a greater cruelty, 
Than Nero's poem, he calls charity : 
And so the Pelican, at his door hung, 
Picks out the tender bosom to its young. 

Of all his poems there he stands ungirt. 
Save only two foul copies for his shirt ; 



OF MARYELL. 183 

Yet these he promises as soon as clean : 
But how I loathed to see my neiglibour glean 
Those papers, which he peeled from within 
Like white flakes rising from a leper's skin ! 
More odious than those rags which the French 

youth 
At ordinaries after dinner show'th, 
When they compare their chancres and poulains ! 
Yet he first kissed them, and after takes pains 
To read, and then, because he understood 
Not one word, thought and swore that they were 

good. 
But all his praises could not now appease 
The provoked author, whom it did displease 
To hear his verses, by so just a curse, 
That were ill made, condemned to be read worse : 
And how (impossible !) he made yet more 
Absurdities in them than were before ; 
For his untuned voice did fall or raise 
As a deaf man upon a viol plays. 
Making the half-points and the periods run 
Confuseder than the atoms in the sun. 
Thereat the poet swelled with anger full. 
And roared out like Perillus in's own bull ; 
Sir, you read false. That any one, hut you, 
Should know the contrary. Whereat, I now 
Made mediator in my room, said why ? 
To say that you read false, Sir, is no lie. 
Thereat the waxen youth relented straight, 
But saw with sad despair that 'twas too late ; 



184 THE POEMS 

For the disdainful poet was retired 
Home, his most furious satire to have fired 
Against the rebel, who, at this struck dead, 
Wept bitterly as disinherited. 
Who would commend his mistress now ? who 
Praise him ? both difficult indeed to do 
With truth. I counselled him to go in time. 
Ere the fierce poet's anger turned to rhyme. 

He hasted ; and I, finding myself free, 
As one 'scaped strangely from captivity. 
Have made the chance be painted ; and go now 
To hang it in Saint Peter's for a vow. 



OF MAIIYELL 185 



TOM MAY'S DEATH. 

As one put drunk into the packet-boat, 

Tom May was hurried hence, and did not 

know't ; 
But was amazed on the Elysian side. 
And, with an eye uncertain gazing wide. 
Could not determine in what place he was, 
(For whence, in Steven's alley, trees or 

grass ?) 
Nor where the Pope's-Head, nor the Mitre lay, 
Signs by which still he found and lost his way 
At last, while doubtfully he all compares, 
He saw near hand, as he imagined. Ares. 
Such did he seem for corpulence and port. 
But 'twas a man much of another sort ; 
'Twas Bex, that in the dusky laurel shade. 
Amongst the chorus of old poets, laid. 
Sounding of ancient heroes, such as were 
The subject's safety, and the rebel's fear. 
And how a double-headed vulture eats 
Brutus and Cassius, the people's cheats; 



18(» THE rOEMS 

But. seeing ^Iay, he varied stmiglit his song. 

Gently to signify that he was wrong. 

* Cups more than eivil of Emathian wine, 

I siixg (said he) and the Pharsalian sign, 

"Where the historian of the eommonweaUh, 

In his own bowels sheathed the conquering 

health. 
By this May to himself and them was come. 
He found he was translated, and by Avhom, 
Yet then with foot as stumblinor as his toni^ue. 
Pressed for his place among the learned throng ; 
But Bex, who knew not either foe or friend. 
Sworn enemy to all that do pretend, 
Eose more than ever he was seen sevei'e, 
Shook his gray locks, and his own bays did tear 
At this intrusion ; then, with laurel wand. 
The awful sign of his supreme command. 
At whose dread whisk Virgil himself does 

quake, 
And Horace patiently its strokes does take. 
As he crowds in, he whipped him o'er the pate. 
Like Pembroke at the masque, and then did 

rate : 

Far from these blessed shades tread back 
agen, 
Most servile wit, and mercenary pen. 

* Alluding to the beginning of JIat's translation of Lu- 
CAx's Phai-salia. 



OF MAKVELL. 187 

Polydore, Lucan, Alan, Vandal, Goth, 
Malignant poet and historian both. 
Go seek the novice statesmen, and obtrude 
On tliem some Roman cast similitude; 
Tell them of liberty, the story's fine, 
Until you all grow consuls in your wine, 
Or thou, dictator of the glass, bestow 
On him the Cato, this the Cicero, 
Transferring old Rome hither in your talk, 
As Bethlem house did to Loretto walk. 
Foul architect ! that hadst not eye to see 
How ill the measures of these states agree, 
And who by Rome's example England lay, 
Those but to Lucan do continue May ; 
But thee, nor ignorance, nor seeming good 
Misled, but malice fixed and understood. 
Because some one than thee more worthy wears 
The sacred laurel, hence are all these tears. 
Must therefore all the world be set on flame. 
Because a Gazette-writer missed his aim ? 
And for a tankard-bearing muse must we. 
As for the basket, Guelphs and Ghibelines be ? 
When the sword ghtters o'er the judge's head, 
And fear has coward churchmen silenced. 
Then is the poet's time, 'tis then he draws. 
And single fights forsaken virtue's cause. 
He, when the wheel of empire whirleth back. 
And though the world's disjointed axle crack, 
Sings still of ancient rights and better times. 
Seeks wretched good, arraigns successful crimes 



188 THE POEMS 

But thou, base man, first prostituted hast, 
Our spotless knowledge and the studies chaste, 
Apostatizing from our arts and us. 
To turn the chronicler to Spartacus ; 
Yet wast thou taken hence with equal fate, 
Before thou couldst great Charles's death re- 
late, 
But what will deeper wound thj little mind. 
Hast left surviving Davenant still behind, 
Who laughs to see in this thy death renewed, 
Right Roman poverty and gratitude. 
Poor poet thou, and grateful senate they. 
Who thy last reckoning did so largely pay, 
And with the public gravity would come, 
When thou hadst drunk thy last, to lead thee 

home, 
If that can be thy home where Spenser lies. 
And reverend Chaucer; but their dust does 

rise 
Against thee, and expels thee from their side. 
As the eagle's plumes from other birds divide : 
Nor here thy shade must dwell, return, re- 
turn. 
Where sulphury Phlegethon does ever burn ! 
There Cerberus with all his jaws shall gnash, 
Meg^ra thee with all her serpents lash ; 
Thou, riveted unto Ixion's wheel, 
Shalt break and the perpetual vulture feel ! 
'Tis just what torments poets e'er did feign. 
Thou first historically shouldst sustain. 



OF IMARVELL. 180 

Thus, by irrevocable sentence cast, 
May only master of these revels passed. 
And straight he vanished in a cloud of pitch. 
Such as unto the sabbath bears the witch. 



190 THE POEMS 



OCEANA AND BRITANNIA. 

Non ego sum vates, sed prisci conscius ajvi. 
OCEANA. 

Whither, O whither, wander I forlorn. 
Fatal to friends, and to my foes a scorn ? 
My pregnant womb is laboring to bring forth 
Thy offspring, Archon, heir to thy just worth. 
Archon, Archon, hear my groaning cries ! 
Lucina, help, assuage my miseries ! 
Saturnian spite pursues me through the earth. 
No corner's left to hide my long wished birth. 
Great queen of isles, yield me a safe retreat 
From the crowned gods, who would my inflmts 

eat ; 
On me, O Delos, on my child-bed, smile, 
My happy seed shall fix thy floating isle ; 
I feel fierce pangs assault my teeming womb : 
Lucina, O Britannia, mother come ! 

BRITANNIA. 

What doleful shrieks pierce my affrighted ear ? 
Shall I ne'er rest for this lewd ravisher .'' 



OF MARVELL. 191 

Rapes, burnings, murders, are his royal sport, 
These modish monsters haunt his peijured court. 
No tumbling player so oft e'er changed his shape, 
As this goat, fox, wolf, timorous French ape. 
True Protestants, in Roman habits dressed, 
AVith Scroggs* he baits, that rav'nous butcher's 

beast ; 
Tresilian Jones,t that fair-faced crocodile, 
Tearing their hearts, at once doth weep and 

smile : 
Neronian flames at London do him please,| 
At Oxford plots,^ to act Agathocles. 
His plots revealed, his mirth is at an end. 
And 's fatal hour Bhall know no foe nor friend. 
Last mart}'r's day I saw a cherub stand 
Across my seas, one foot upon the land, 
The other on the enthralled Gallic shore. 
Proclaiming loud their time shall be no more. 
This mighty power heaven's equal balance swayed, 
And in one scale, crowns, crosiers, sceptres, laid ; 



* Sir William Scroggs was a judge, of whom Bishop Bur- 
net gives this account. " In all the trials he set himself, 
even with indecent earnestness, to get the prisoners to be 
always cast." 

t One of the same principles with Scroggs. He was pre- 
ferred when Jeffi-eys was made Lord' Chief Justice. 

X The fire of London. 

^ In the time of the plague, in the year 1665, the court 
resided at Oxford, where the parliament was then held ; at 
which time were several private cabals, formed against the 
Protestants. 



192 THE POEMS 

In the other a sweet smiling babe did lie, 
Circled with glories, decked with majesty. 
With steady hand he poised the golden pair ; 
The gilded gewgaws mounted in the air. 
The ponderous babe, descending in its scale, 

Leaped on my shore 

Nature triumphed, joy echoed through the earth, 
The heavens bow down to see the blessed birth. 
What's that I hear? A new born babe's soft 

cries. 
And joyful mother's tender lullabies. 
'Tis so ; behold, my daughter's passed all harms. 
Cradling an infant in her fruitful arms ; 
The very same the angelic vision showed, 
In mien, in majesty, how like a god ! 
What a firm health does on her visage dwell ! 
Her sparkling eyes immortal youth foretell. 
Rome, Sparta, Venice, could not all bring forth 
So strong, so temperate, such lasting worth. 
INIarpesia, from the north with speed advance. 
Thy sister's birth brings thy deliverance. 
Fergusian founders this just babe exceeds. 
In the arts of peace, and mighty martial deeds. 
Kneel, Panopeians, to your equal queen, 
Safe from the foreign sword, and barbarous 

skene. 
Transports of joy divert my yearning heart. 
For my dear child, my soul, my better part. 
Heaven shower her choicest blessings on thy womb, 
Our present help, our stay in time to come ! 



OF MATIVELL. 193 

Thou best of daugl iters, mothers, matrons, say 
What forced thy birth, and got this glorious day ? 

OCEANA. 

'Scaped the slow jaws o' the grinding pensioners, 
I fell i' the trap of Rome's dire murderers ; 
Twice rescued by my loyal senate's power, 
Twice I expected ray babe's happy hour. 
l^Ialignant force twice checked their pious aid, 
And to my foes as oft my state betrayed. 
Great, full of pain, in a dark winter's night, 
Threatened, pursued, I 'scaped by sudden flight. 
Pale fear gave speed to my weak trembling feet, 
And far I fled ere day our world could greet. 
That dear loved light, which the whole globe 

doth cheer. 
Spurred on my flight, and added to my fear ; 
Whilst black conspiracy, that child of night, 
In royal purple clad, outdares the light ; 
By day herself the faith's defender styles, 
By night digs pits, and spreads her papal toils : 
By day she to the pompous chapel goes, 
By night, with York, adores Rome's idol-shows. 
Witness, ye stars, and silent powers of night. 
Her treacheries have forced my guiltless flight. 
With the broad day my danger too drew near ; 
Of help, of counsel void, how should I steer ! 
In pulpit damned, strumpet at court proclaimed, 
Where should I hide, where should I rest 

defamed ? 
13 



194 THE POEMS 

Tortured in thought, I raised my weeping eyes. 

And sobbing voice, to the all-helping skies. 

As by heayen sent, a reverend sire appears, 

Cliarming my grief, stopping my flood of tears. 

His busy circling orbs, two restless spies. 

Glanced to and fro, outranging Argos' ej^es ; 

Like fleeting Time, on's front one lock did grow. 

From his glib tongue torrents of words did flow ; 

Propose, resolve, Agrarian, forty-one, 

Lycurgus, Brutus, Solon, HaiTington. 

He said he knew me in my swaddling bands. 

Had often danced me in his careful hands. 

He knew Lord Archon too, then wept, and swore, 

Enshrined in me, his fame he did adore. 

His name I asked ; he said, Politico, 

Descended from the divine Nicolo. 

My state he knew, my danger seemed to dread. 

And to my safety vowed hand, heart, and head. 

Grateful returns I up to heaven send, 

That in distress had sent me such a friend. 

I asked him where I was ? Pointing he showed 

Oxford's old towers, once the learned arts' 

abode ; 
Once great in fame, now a piratic port, 
"Where Eomish priests, and elvish monks 

resort. 
He added ; near a new-built college stood, 
Endowed by Plato, for the public good ; 
Thither allured by learned honest men, 
Plato vouchsafed once more to live asrain. 



OF MARYELL. 195 

Securely there I might myself repose, 

From my fierce griefs, and my more cruel foes. 

Tired with long flights, e'en hunted down with; 

fear, 
The welcome news my drooping soul did cheer. 
His pleasing words shortened the time and way. 
And me beguiled at Plato's house to stay. 
When we came in, he told me after rest. 
He'd show me Plato, and's Venetian guest : 
I scarce replied, with weariness oppressed ; 
To my desired apartment I repaired. 
Invoking sleep, and heaven's almighty guard. 
My waking cares, and stabbing frights recede, 
And nodding sleep dropped on my drowsy head. 
At last the summons of a busy bell, 
And glimmering lights did sleef)'s kind mists 

dispel. 
From bed I stole, and creeping by the wall. 
Through a small chink I spied a spacious hall ; 
Tapers, as thick as stars, did shed their light 
Around the place, and made a day of night. 
The curious art of some great master's hand 
Adorned the room : Hyde, Clifford, Danby, stand 
In one large piece ; next them, the two Dutch 

wars 
In bloody colours paint our fatal jars ; 
Here London flames in clouds of smoke aspire. 
Done to the life, I'd almost cried out fire ! 
But living figures did my eyes divert 
From these, and many more of wond'rous art. 



19G THE POEMS 

There entered in three mercenary bands : 
The different captains had distinct commands. 
The beggar's desperate troop did first appear, 

Littleton led, proud S re had the rear. 

The disguised papists under Garroway, 
Talbot lieutenant, none had better pay. 
Next greedy Lee led party-coloured slaves ; 
Deaf fools i' the right, i' the wrong sagacious 

knaves. 

Brought up by M : then a nobler train, 

In malice mighty, impotent in brain, 

The Pope's solicitors brought into the hall, 

Not guilty lay, much guilty spiritual. 

I also spied behind a private screen, 

Colbert and Portsmouth, York and Mazarine. 

Immediately in close cabal they join. 

And all applaud the glorious design. 

'Gainst me, and my loved senate's free-born 

breath, 
Dire threats I heard, the hall did echo death. 
A curtain drawn, another scene appeared, 
A tinkling bell, a mumbling priest I heard. 
At elevation every knee adored 
The baker's craft, infallible's vain lord. 
When Catiline with vipers did conspire ' 
To murder Rome, and bury it in fire, 
A sacramental bowl of human gore. 
Each villain took, and as he drank he swore. 
The cup denied, to make their plot complete, 
These Catilines their conjured gods did eat. 



OF MARYELL. 197 

Whilst to their breadeii whimseys they did 

kneel, 
I crept away, and to the door did steal. 
As I got out by providence, I flew 
To this close wood ; too late they did pursue : 
That dreadful night my childbed throes 

brought on. 
My cries moved your, and heaven's compassion. 

BRITANNIA. 

happy day ! a jubilee proclaim ; 
Daughter adore the unutterable name ! 
AVith grateful heart breathe out thyself in 

prayer ; 
In the mean time the babe shall be my care. 
There is a man, ray island's hope and grace, 
The chief delight, and joy, of human race. 
Exposed himself to war in tender age. 
To free his country from the Gallic rage ; 
With all the graces blessed his riper years, * 
And full-blown virtue waked the tyrant's fears : 
By 's sire rejected, but by heaven he's called 
To break my yoke, and rescue the enthralled. 
This, this is he, who, with a stretched out hand, 
And matchless might, shall free my groaning 

land. 
On earth's proud basilisks he'll justly fall. 
Like Moses' rod, and prey upon them all. 
He'll guide my people through the raging seas. 
To holy wars, and certain victories ; 



198 THE POEMS 

His spotless fame, and his immense desert, 
Shall plead love's cause, and storm this virgin's 

heart ; 
She, like ^ger'm, shall his breast inspire 
With justice, wisdom, and celestial fire ; 
Like Numa, he her dictates shall obey, 
And by her oracles the world shall sway 



OF MARVELL. 199 



BRITANNIA AND RALEIGH. 

BRITANNIA. 

Ah ! Raleigh, when thou didst thy breath resign 
To trembling James, would I had quitted mine. 
Cubs didst thou call them ? Hadst thou seen 

this brood 
Of earls, and dukes, and princes of the blood, 
No more of Scottish race thou would'st complain, 
' Those would be blessings in this spurious reign. 
Awake, arise from thy long blessed repose, * 
Once more with me partake of mortal woes ! 

RALEIGH. 

What mighty power has forced me from my rest ? 
Oh ! mighty queen, why so untimely dressed ? 

BRITANNIA. 

Favoured by night, concealed in this disguise, 
Whilst the lewd court in drunken slumber lies, 
I stole away, and never will return. 
Till England knows who did her city burn ; 



200 THE POEMS 

Till cavaliers shall favourites be deemed, 
And loyal sufferers bj the court esteemed ; 
Till *Leigh and Galloway shall bribes reject ; 

Thus O n's golden cheat I shall detect : 

Till atheist Lauderdale shall leave this land, 
And Commons' votes shall cut-nose guards 

disband : 
Till Kate a happy mother shall become. 
Till Charles loves parliaments, and James hates 

Rome. 

RALEIGH. 

What fatal crimes make you for ever fly 
Your once loved court, and martyr's progeny ? 

BRITANNIA. 

A colony of French possess the court ; 
Pimps, priests, buffoons, in privy-chamber sport. 
Such slimy monsters ne'er aj^proached a throne, 
Since Pharaoh's days, nor so defiled a crown. 
In sacred ear tyrannic arts they croak. 
Pervert his mind, and good intentions choke. 
Tell him of golden Indias, fairy lands. 
Leviathan, and absolute commands. 
Thus fairy-like, they steal the king away. 
And in his room a changeling Lewis lay. 



* Leigh and Galloway were suspected to be bribed by 
Lord Danby, to side with the court. 



OF MARYELL. 201 

How oft have I him to himself restored, 

In 's left the scale, in 's right hand placed the 

sword ? 
Taught him their use, what dangers would ensue 
To them who strive to separate these two ? 
The bloody Scottish chronicle read o'er, 
Showed him how many kings, in purple gore, 
"Were hurled to hell, by cruel tyrant lore ? 



The other day famed Spenser I did bring, 
In lofty notes Tudor's blessed race to sing ; 
How Spain's proud powers her virgin arms con- 
trolled. 
And golden days in peaceful order rolled ; 
How like ripe fruit she dropped from off her 

throne, 
Full of gray hairs, good deeds, and great renown. 
As the Jessean hero did appease 
Saul's stormy rage, and stopped his black disease, 
So the learned bard, with artful song, suppressed 
The swelling passion of his cankered breast, 
And in his heart kind influences shed 
Of country's love, by truth and justice bred. 
Then to perform the cure so well begun. 
To him I showed this glorious setting sun ; 
How, by her people's looks pursued from far, 1 
She mounted on a bright celestial car, V 

Outshining Virgo, or the Julian star. J 

Whilst m truth's mirror this good scene he spied, 
Entered a dame, bedecked with spotted pride, 



202 THE POEMS 

Yaiv flower-de-luce within an azure field, 
Her left hand bears the ancient Gallic shield, 
By her usurped ; her right a bloody sword, 
Inscribed Leviathan, our sovereign Lord ; 
Her towery front a fiery meteor bears, 
An exhalation bred of blood and tears ; 
Around her Jove's lewd ravenous curs com 

plain, 
Pale death, lust, tortures, fill her pompous 

train ; 
She from the easy king Truth's mirror took. 
And on the ground in spiteful fall it broke ; 
Then frowning thus, with proud disdain she 

spoke : 



"Are thread-bare virtues ornaments for kings ? 
Such poor pedantic toys teach underlings. 
Do monarchs rise by virtue, or by sword ? 
Who e'er grew great by keeping of his word ? 
Virtue's a faint green-sickness to brave souls, 
Dastards their hearts, their active heat controls. 
The rival gods, monarchs of t'other world, 
This mortal poison among princes hurled, 
Fearing the mighty projects of the great ■^ 

Should drive them from their proud celestial ! 

seat, j 

If not o'erawed by this new holy cheat. ^ 

Those pious frauds, too slight to ensnare the 

brave. 
Are proper arts the long-eared rout to enslave. 



OF MARVELL. 203 

Bribe hungry priests to deify your might, 
To teach your will's your only rule to right, 
And sound damnation to all dare deny 't. 
Thus heaven's designs 'gainst heaven you shall 

turn, 
And make them feel those powers they once did 

scorn. 
When all the gobbling interest of mankind, 
By hirelings sold to you, shall be resigned, 
And by impostures, God and man betrayed. 
The church and state you safely may invade ; 
So boundless Lewis in full glory shines, 
Whilst your starved power in legal fetters pines. 
Shake off those baby-bands from your strong 

arms, 
Henceforth be deaf to that old witch's charms ; 
Taste the delicious sweets of sovereign power, 
'Tis royal game whole kingdoms to deflower. 
Three spotless virgins to your bed I'll bring, 
A sacrifice to you, their God and king. 
As these grow stale, we'll harass human kind, ^ 
Rack nature, till new pleasures you shall find, \ 
Strong as your reign, and beauteous as your J 

mind." 

When she had spoke, a confused murmur 
rose, 
Of French, Scotch, Irish, all my mortal foes ; 
Some English too, shame ! disguised I spied, 
Led all by the wise son-in-law of Hyde. 



204 THE POEMS 

With fury drunk, like bacchanals, they roar, 
Down with that common Magna Charta whore I 
With joint consent on helpless me they flew, 
And from my Charles to a base gaol me drew ; 
My reverend age exposed to scorn and shame, 
To prigs, bawds, whores, was made the public 

game. 
Frequent addresses to my Charles I send, 
And my sad state did to his care commend ; 
But his fair soul, transformed by that French 

dame. 
Had lost all sense of honour, justice, fame. 
He in 's seraglio like a spinster sits, 
Besieged by whores, buffoons, and bastard 

chits ; 
Lulled in security, rolling in lust. 
Resigns his crown to angel CarwelFs trust ; 

Her creature n the revenue steals ; 

False F — h, knave Ang — sey misguide the 

seals. 
Mac-James the Irish bigots does adore, 
His French and Teague command on sea and 

shore. 
The Scotch-scalado of our court two isles. 
False Lauderdale, with ordure, all defiles. 
Thus the state's nightmared by this hellish rout. 
And no one left these furies to cast out. 
Ah! Vindex come, and purge the poisoned 

state ; 
Descend, descend, ere the cure's desperate. 



OF MARVELL. 205 



RALEIGH. 

Once more, great queen, thy darling strive to 
save. 

Snatch him again from scandal and the grave ; 

Present to's thoughts his long-scorned parlia- 
ment, 

The basis of his throne and government. 

In his deaf ears sound his dead father's name : 

Perhaps that spell may 's erring soul reclaim : 

Who knows what good effects from thence may 
spring ? 

'Tis godlike good to save a falhng king. 

BRITANNIA. 

Raleigh, no more, for long in vain I've tried 
The Stuart from the tyrant to divide ; 
As easily learned virtuosos may 
With the dog's blo(5d his gentle kind convey 
Into the wolf, and make him guardian turn 
To the bleating flock, by him so lately torn : 
If this imperial juice once taint his blood, 
'Tis by no potent antidote withstood. 
Tyrants, like lep'rous kings, for public weal 
Should be immured, lest the contagion steal 
Over the whole. The elect of the Jessean 

line 
To this firm law their sceptre did resign ; 
And shall this base tyrannic brood invade 
Eternal laws, by God for mankind made ? 



20G THE POEMS 

To the serene Venetian state I'll go, 
From her sage mouth famed principles to know ; 
With her the prudence of the ancients read, 
To teach my people in their steps to tread ; 
By their great pattern such a state I'll frame, 
Shall eternize a glorious lasting name. 
Till then, my Raleigh, teach our noble youth 
To love sobriety, and holy truth ; 
Watch and preside over their tender age. 
Lest court corruption should their souls engage ; 
Teach them how arts, and arms, in thy young 

days, 
Employed our youth, — not taverns, stews, and 

plays ; 
Tell them the generous scorn their race does owe 
To flattery, pimping, and a gaudy show ; 
Teach them to scorn the Carwells, Portsmouths, 

Nells, 

The Clevelands, ns, Betties, Lauderdales : 

Poppcea, Tigelline, and Arteria's name, 
All yield to these in lewdness, lust, and fame. 
Make them admire the Talbots, Sydneys, Veres, 
Drake, Cavendish, Blake, men void of slavish 

fears. 
True sons of glory, pillars of the state, 
On whose famed deeds all tongues and writers 

wait. 
When with fierce ardour their bright souls do 

burn, 
Back to my dearest country I'll return. 



OF MARYELL. 207 

Tarqain's just judge, and Caesar's equal peers, 
With them I'll bring to dry my people's tears ; 
Publicola with healing hands shall pour 
Balm in their wounds, and shall their life restore ; 
Greek arts, and Roman arms, in her conjoined. 
Shall England raise, relieve oppressed mankind. 
As Jove's great son the infested globe did free 
From noxious monsters, hell-born tyranny, 
So sliall my England, in a holy war. 
In triumph lead chained tyrants from afar ; 
Her true Crusada shall at last pull down 
The Turkish crescent, and the Persian sun. 
Freed by thy labours, fortunate, blest isle, 
The earth shall rest, the heaven shall on thee 

smile ; 
And this kind secret for reward shall give. 
No poisoned tyrants on thy earth shall live. 



208 THE POEMS 



INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER, ABOUT 
THE DUTCH WARS, 1667. 

After two sittings,* now our Lady State, 
To end her picture, does the third time wait ; 
But ere thou fallest to work, first, Painter, see, 
Is it too slight grown or too hard for thee ? 
Canst thou paint without colours ? Then 'tis right : 
For so we too without a fleet can fight. 
Or canst thou daub a sign-post, and that ill ? 
'Twill suit our great debauch, and little skill. 
Or hast thou marked how antic masters limn 
The alley -roof with snuff of candle dim. 
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tools ? 
'Twill serve this race of drunkards, pimps, and 

fools. 
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes. 
As the Indians draw our luxury in plumes. 
Or if to score out our compendious fame, 
With Hooke then through your microscope take 

aim, 

* See Waller's, and Denham's, poems. 



OF MARVELL. 209 

Wliere like the nev/ comptroller all men laugh, 
To see a tall louse brandish a white staff, 
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless pencil curse,. 
Stamp on thy pallet, not perhaps the worse. 
The painter having so long vexed his cloth, 
Of his hound's mouth to feign the raging froth. 
His desperate pencil at the work did dart ; 
His anger reached that rage which passed 

his art ; 
Chance finished that, which art could not begin, 
And he sat smiling as his dog did grin. 
So mayest thou perfect by a lucky blow, 
What all thy softest touches cannot do. 

Paint then St. Alban's full of soup and gold,. 
The new court's pattern, stallion of the old, 
Him neither w^it nor courage did exalt. 
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure's salt. 
Paint him with drayman's shoulders, butcher's 

mien, 
Membered like mule, with elephantine chin. 
•Well he the title of St. Alban's bore, 
For never Bacon studied nature more ; 
But age, allaying now that youthful heat, 
Fits him in France to play at cards, and cheat. 

Draw no commission, lest the court should lie. 
And, disavowing treaty, ask supply. 
He needs no seal but to St. James's lease, 
Whose breeches were the instruments of peace ; 
U 



ilO THE POEM? 

Who, if the French dispute his power, from 

thence 
Can straight prodace them a plenipotence. 
Xor fears he the Most Christian should trepan 
Two saints at once. Si, German and Alban ; 
But thought the golden age was now restored, 
When men and women took each other's word. 

Paint then again her highness to the life, 
Philosopher beyond Newcastle's wife. 
She naked can Archimedes' self put down. 
For an experiment upon the crown. 
She perfected that engine oft essayed. 
How after child-birth to renew a maid ; 
And found how rojal heirs might be matured 
In fewer months than mothers once endured. 
Hence Crowder made the rare inventress free 
Of 's Highness's Boval Society. 
Happiest of women if she were but able 
To make her glassen Duke once malleable ! 
Paint her with oyster-lip, and breath of fame. 
Wide mouth, that sparagus may well proclaim ; 
With chancellor's belly, and so large a rump, 
Where (not behind the coach j her pages jump. 
Express her studying now, if China claj 
Can, without breaking, renomed juice convey : 
Or how a mortal poison she may draw 
Out of the cordial meal of the cocoa- 
Witness ye stars of night, and thou the pale 
3Ioon, that o'ercome with the sick steam, didst fail: 



OF 3IARVELL. 211 

Ye neighb'ring elms, which your green leaves 

did shed, 
And fawTis which from the womb abortive tied. 
Not unprovoked she tries forbidden arts. 
But in her soft breast love's hid cancer smarts, 
AVhile she resolves at once Sydney's disgrace, 
And herself scorned for emulous Denham's 

face ; * 
And nightly hears the hated guard, away 
Galloping with the Duke to other prey. 

Paint Castlemain in colours which will hold 
Her, not her picture, for she now grows old. 
She through her lackey's drawers, as he ran, 
Discerned love's cause, and a new fiame began. 
Her wonted joys thenceforth, and court, she 

shuns, 
And still within her mind the footman runs ; 
His brazen calves, his bmwny thighs, (the face 
She slights) his feet shaped for a smoother race ! 
Then, poring with her glass, she re-adjusts : 
Her locks, and oft-tried beauty now distrusts ; 
Fears lest he scorned a woman once assayed. 
And now first wished she e'er had been a maid. 
Great love ! how dost thou triumph, and how 

reign. 
That to a irroom couldst humble her disdain ! 



* The Duke of York was thought to have an intrigue with 
Sir John Denham's ladv. 



212 THE POEMS 

Stripped to her skiii, see how she stooping 

stands, 
Kor scorns to rub him down with those fair 

hands, 
And washing (lest the scent her crime disclose) 
His sweaty hoofs, tickles him betwixt the toes. 
But envious fame too soon began to note 
More gold in 's fob, more lace upon his coat ; 
And he unwearj, and of tongue too fleet, 
Ko longer could conceal his fortune sweet. 
Justly the rogue was whipped in Porter's den, 
And Jermam straight has leave to come again. 
Ah Painter ! now could Alexander live, 
And this Campaspe the Apelles give ! * 

Draw next a pair of tables opening, then 
The House of Commons clattering like the men. 
Describe the court and country both set right 
On opposite points, the black against the white, 
Those having lost the nation at tick-tack. 
These now adventuring how to win it back. 
The dice betwixt them must the fate divide, 
As chance does still in multitudes decide. 
But here the court doth its advantage know. 
For the cheat. Turner, for them both must 
throw ; 

* Campaspe was Alexander's mistress, whom Apelles, by 
Alexaoder's command, painted naked, and fell violently in 
lore with her. Alexander perceived it, and, for fear of any 
fatal coiisequer.ce to Apelles, gave her to him. 



OF MARVELL. 213 

As some from boxes, he so from the chair 

Can strike the dice, and still with them have share. 

Here, Painter, rest a little and survey 
TTith what small arts the pubhc game thev play : 
For so too, Rubens, with affairs of state, 
His labouring pencil oft would recreate. 

The close Cabal marked how the navy eats, 
And thought all lost that goes not to the cheats : 
So therefore secretly for peace decrees, 
Yet for a war the parliament would squeeze ; 
And fix to the revenue such a sum 
Should Goodrick silence, and make Paston dumb, 
Should pay land armies, should dissolve the vain 
Commons, and ever such a court maintain, 
Hyde's avarice, Bennet's luxury, should suffice, 
And what can these defray but the excise, 
Excise, a monster worse than e'er before 
Frighted the midwife, and the mother tore ? 
A thousand hands she has, a thousand eyes. 
Breaks into shops, and into cellars pries ; 
With hundred rows of teeth the shark exceeds. 
And on all trades, like Casawar, she feeds ; 
Chops off" the piece where'er she close the jaw, 
Else swallows all down her indented maw. 
She stalks all day in streets, concealed from sight, 
Ajid flies like bats with leathern wings by night ; 
She wastes the country, and on cities preys. 
Her, of a female harpy in dog-days. 



214 THE POEMS 

Black Birch, of all the earth-born race most hot, 
And most rapacious, like himself begot ; 
And of his brat enamoured, as she increased, 
Buggered in incest with the mongrel beast. 

Say Muse, for nothing can escape thy sight. 
And Painter, wanting other, draw this fight, 
Who in an English senate fierce debate 
Could raise so long, for this new whore of state. 

Of early wittols first the troop marched in, 
For diligence renowned, and discipline ; 
In loyal haste they left your wives in bed. 
And Denham these with one consent did head. 

Of the old courtiers next a squadron came, 
Who sold their master, led by Ashburnham. 

To them succeeds a despicable rout, 
But knew the word, and well could face about ; 
Expectants pale, with hopes of spoil allured, 
Though yet but pioneers, and led by Steward. 

Then damning cowards ranged the vocal plain ; 
Wood these commands, knight of the horn and 

cane : 
Still his hook-shoulder seems the blow to dread. 
And under 's arm-pit he defends his head. 
The posture strange men laugh at, of his poll 
Hid with his elbow like the spice he stole : 



OF MARVELL. . 215 

Headless St. Dennis so his head does bear, 
And both of them alike French martyrs ^vere. 

Court officers, as used, the next place took, 

And followed F x, but with disdainful 

look ; 
His birth, his youth, his brokage all dispraise 
In vain ; for always he commands that pays. 

Then the procurers under Progers filed, 
Gentlest of men, and his lieutenant mild ; 
Bronkard, love's squire, through all the field 

arrayed, 
No troop was better clad, nor so well paid. 

Then marched the troop of Clarendon, all full, 
Haters of fowl, to teal preferring bull ; 
Gross bodies, grosser minds, and grosser cheats, 
And bloated Wren conducts them to their seats. 

Charlton advances next (whose wife does awe 
The mitred troop) and with his looks gives law. 
He marched with beaver cocked of bishop's brim. 
And hid much fraud under an aspect grim. 

Next do the lawyers, sordid band, appear, 
Finch in the front, and Thurland in the rear. 

The troop of privilege, a rabble bare 
Of debtors deep, fell to Trelawney's care ; 



216 THE POEMS 

Their fortune's error they supplied in rage, 
Nor any farther would than these engage. 

Then marched the troop, whose valiant acts 
before 
Their public acts, obliged them to do more, 
For chimney's sake they all Sir Pool obeyed, 
Or, in his absence, him that first it laid. 

Then came the thrifty troop of privateers, 
"Whose horses each with other interferes : 
Before them Higgins rides with brow compact, 
Mourning his countess, anxious for his act. 

Sir Frederick and Sir Solomon draw lots, 
For the command of politics and Scots ; 
Thence fell to words ; but quarrels to adjourn. 
Their friends agreed they should command by turn. 

Carteret the rich did the accountants guide. 
And in ill English all the world defied. 

The papists (but of those the house had none, 
Else) Talbot offered to have led them on. 

Bold Duncomb next, of the projectors chief. 
And old Fitz Harding of the eaters beef. 

Late and disordered out the drunkards drew. 
Scarce them their leaders, they their leaders knew. 



OF MAPvVELL. 217 

Before them entered, equal in command, 
Apsley and Brotherick marching hand in hand. 

Last then but one, Powel, that could not ride 
Left the French standard weltering in his stride ; 
He, to excuse his slowness, truth confessed, 
That 'twas so long before he could be dressed. 

The lords' sons last all these did reenforce, 
Cornbury before them managed hobby-horse. 

Never before nor since an host so steeled 
Trooped on to muster in the Tuttle-field. 

Not the first cock-horse that with cork was 
shod 
To rescue Albemarle from the sea-cod : 
Nor the late feather-man, whom Tomkins fierce 
Shall with one breath like thistle down disperse, 
All the two Coventrys their generals chose, 
For one had much, the other nought to lose. 
Not better choice all accidents could hit. 
While hector Harry steers by Will the wit. 
They both accept the charge with merry glee. 
To fight a battle from all gunshot free. 
Pleased with their numbers, yet in valour wise. 
They feigned a parley, better to surprise, 
They who ere long shall the rude Dutch 

upbraid. 
Who in a time of treaty duve invade. 



218 THE POEMS 

Thick was the morning, and the house was 

thin, 
The speaker early, when they all fell in. 
Propitious heavens ! had not you them crossed, 
Excise had got the day, and all been lost : 
For t'other side all in close quarters lay 
Without intelligence, command or pay ; 
A scattered body, which the foe ne'er tried, 
But often did among themselves divide. 
And some run o'er each night, while others 

sleep. 
And undescried returned 'fore morning peep. 
But Strangeways, who all night still walked the 

round. 
For vigilance and courage both renowned. 
First spied the enemy, and gave the alarm. 
Fighting it single till the rest might arm ; 
Such Roman Codes stood before the foe. 
The faUing bridge behind, the streams belo\t.* 
Each ran as chance him guides to several post, 
And all to pattern his example, boast ; 
Their former trophies they recall to mind. 
And now, to edge their anger, courage grind. 

First entered forward Temple, conqueror 
Of Irish cattle, and solicitor. 

* Codes, a noble Roman, maintained a pass alone, and 
kept back a whole army, till the bridge behind him was 
broke down, and then threw himself into the Tiber, and 
swam to land. 



OF MARVELL. 219 

Then daring S — r, that with spear and shield 
Had stretched the monster patent on the field. 
Keen Whoorwood next in aid of damsel frail, 
That pierced the giant Mordaunt through his 

mail: 
And surly Williams the accountant's bane, 
And Lovelace young of chimney-men the cane. 
Old Waller, trumpet general, swore he'd write 
This combat truer than the naval fight. 
Of birth, state, wit, strength, courage, Howard 

presumes, 
And in his breast wears many Montezumes.* 
These, with some more, with single valour stay 
The adverse troops, and hold them all at bay. 
Each thinks his person represents the whole, 
And with that thought does multiply his soul ; 
Believes himself an army ; there's one man, 
As easily conquered ; and believing, can 
With heart of bees so full and head of mites, 
That each, though duelling, a battle fights. 
So once Orlando, famous in romance. 
Broached whole brigades like larks upon his 

lance. 

But strength at last still under number bows, 
And the faint sweat trickling down Temple's 
brows ; 



* Montezuma is the hero of the Indian Queen, a tragedy 
written by Mi\ Dryden and Sir Robert Howard. 



220 THE POEMS 

Even iron Strangeway chasing yet gave back, 
Spent with fatigue to breathe a while tobac, 
When marching in, a seasonable recruit 
Of citizens and merchants held dispute, 
And charging all their pipes, a sullen band 
Of Presbyterian Switzers made a stand. 

Nor could all these the field have long main- 
tained, 
But for the unknown reserve that still re- 
mained ; 
A gross of English gentry, nobly born, 
Of clear estates, and to no faction sworn, 
Dear lovers of their king, and death to meet 
For country's cause, that glorious thing and 

sweet ; 
To speak not forward, but in action brave. 
In giving generous, but in council grave ; 
Candidly Credulous for once, nay twice ; 
But sure the devil cannot cheat them thrice. 
The van in battle, though retiring, falls 
Without disorder in their intervals, 
Then closing all, in equal front, fall on. 
Led by great Garraway, and great Littleton. 
Lee equal to obey, or to command. 
Adjutant-general was still at hand. 
The marshal standard, Sands displaying, shows 
St. Dunstan in it tweaking Satan's nose. 
See sudden chance of war, to paint or write, 
Is longer work, and harder than to fight : 



OF MARVELL. 221 

At the first charge the enemy give out, 
And the excise receives a total rout. 

Broken in courage, jet the men the same. 
Resolve henceforth upon their other game : 
Where force had failed, with stratagem to plaj, 
And what haste lost, recover by delay. 
St. Albans straight is sent to, to forbear, 
Lest the sure peace (forsooth) too soon appear. 
The seamen's -clamours to three ends they use, 
To cheat their pay, feign want, and the house 

accuse. 
Each day they bring the tale and that too true, 
How strong the Dutch their equipage renew ; 
Meantime through all the yards their orders run, 
To lay the ships up, cease the keels begun. 
The timber rots, the useless axe does rust ; 
The unpractised saw lies ^buried in its dust ; 
The busy hammer sleeps, the ropes untwine ; 
The store and wages all are mine and thine ; 
Along the coasts and harbours they take care 
That money lacks, nor forts be in repair. 
Long thus they could against the house con- 
spire. 
Load them with envy, and with sitting tire ; 
And the loved king, that's never yet denied. 
Is brought to beg in public, and to chide : 
But whCxi this failed, and months enough were 

spent. 
They with the first day's proffer seem content ; 



222 THE POEMS 

And to land-tax from the excise turn round, 
Bought off with eighteen hundred thousand 

pound. 
Thus like fair thieves, the Commons' purse they 

share. 
But all the members' lives consulting spare. 

Blither than hare that hath escaped the 

hounds. 
The house prorogued, the chancellor rebounds. 
Not so decrepid JEson, hashed and stewed 
With magic herbs, rose from the pot renewed, 
And with fresh age felt his glad limbs unite, 
His gout (yet still he cursed) had left him 

quite. 
What frosts to fruits, what arsenic to the rat. 
What to fair Denham mortal chocolate, 
What an account to Carteret, that and more, 
A parliament is to the chancellor. 
So the sad tree shrinks from the morning's eye, 
But blooms all night and shoots its branches 

high; 
So at the sun's recess, again returns 
The comet dread, and earth and heaven bums. 

Now Mordaunt may within his castle tower 
Imprison parents, and their child deflower. 

The Irish herd is now let loose, and comes 
By millions over, not by hecatombs ; 



OF MARVELL. 223 

And now, now the Canary patent may 
Be broached again for the great Holy-day. 
See how he reigns in his ne-w palace culminant, 
And sits in state divine like Jove the fulminant. 
First Buckingham that durst 'gainst him rebel, 
Blasted with lightning, struck with thunder fell, 
Next the twelve commons are condemned to 

groan, 
And roll in vain at Sisyphus's stone. 
But still he cared, whilst in revenge he braved, 
That peace secured, and money might be saved. 
Gain and revenge, revenge and gain, are 

sweet ; 
United most, when most by turns they meet. 
France had St. Albans promised, (so they sing) 
St. Albans promised him, and he the king. 
The court forthwith is ordered all to close, 
To play for Flanders, and the stake to lose, 
While chained togethei', two ambassadors 
Like slaves shall beg for peace at Holland's 

doors. 
This done, among his Cyclops he retires 
To. forge new thunder, and inspect their fires. 

The court, as once of war, now^ fond of peace. 
All to new sports their wonted fears release. 
From Greenwich (where intelligence they hold) 
Comes news of pastime martial and old. 
A punishment invented first to awe 
Masculine wives transgressing nature's law ; 



224 THE rOEMS 

Where when the brawny female disobeys, 
And beats the liusband, till for peace he prays, 
No concerned jury damage for him finds, 
Nor partial justice her behaviour binds ; 
But the just street does the next house invade, 
Mounting the neighbour couple on lean jade. 
The distaff knocks, the grains from kettle fiy, 
And boys and girls in troops run hooting by. 
Prudent antiquity ! that knew by shame, 
Better than law, domestic broils to tame ; 
And taught the youth by spectacle innocent : 
So thou and I, dear Painter, represent 
In quick effigy, others' faults ; and feign. 
By making them ridiculous, to restrain ; 
"With homely sight they chose thus to relax 
The joys of state for the new peace and tax. 
So Holland with us had the mastery tried, 
And our next neighbours, France and Flanders, 
ride. 

But a fresh news the great designment nips 
Off, at the isle of Candy ; Dutch and ships 
Bab May and Arlington did wisely scoff, 
And thought all safe if they were so far off. 
Modern geographers ! 'twas there they thought, 
Where Venice twenty years the Turks had fought, 
(While the first year the navy is but shown. 
The next divided, and the third we've none. 
They by the name mistook it for that isle. 
Where pilgrim Palmer travelled in exile. 



OF MAKVELL. 225 

With the bull's horn to measure his own head^ 
And on Pasiphae's tomb to drop a bead. 
But Morrice learned demonstrates by the post, 
This isle of Candy was on Essex coast. 

Fresh messengers still the sad news assure, 
More timorous now we are than first secure. 
False terrors our believing fears devise, 
And the French army one from Calais spies. 
Bennet and May, and those of shorter reach, 
Change all for guineas, and a crown for each ; 
But wiser men, and men foreseen in chance, 
In Holland theirs had lodged before, and 

France ; 
Whitehall 's unsafe, the court all meditates 
To fly to Windsor, and mure up the gates. 
Each doth the other blame and all distrust. 
But Mordaunt new obliged would sure be just. 
Not such a fatal stupefaction reigned 
At London flames, nor so the court complained. 
The Bloodworth Chancellor gives (then does 

recall) 
Orders, amazed, at last gives none at all. 

St. Albans writ too, that he may bewail 
To Monsieur Lewis, and tell coward tale, 
How that the Hollanders do make a noise, 
Threaten to beat us and are naughty boys. 
Now Doleman 's disobedient, and they still 
Uncivil, his uukindness would us kill : 
15 



226 THE POEMS 

Tell him our ships unrigged, our forts unmanned, 
Our money spent, else 'twere at his command ; 
Summon him therefore of his word, and prove 
To move him out of pity, if not love ; 
Pray him to make De Wit and Ruyter cease, 
And whip the Dutch unless they hold their 

peace. 
But Lewis was of memory but dull, 
And to St. Albans too undutiful ; 
Nor word nor near relation did revere, 
But asked him bluntly for his character. 
The gravelled count did with this answer faint, 
(His character was that which thou didst paint) 
And so enforced like enemy or spy, 
Trusses his baggage, and the camp does fly : 
Yet Lewis writes, and lest our heart should break, 
Condoles us morally out of Senec. 

Two letters next unto Breda are sent. 
In cipher one to Harry Excellent. 
The first intrusts (our verse that name abhors) 
Plenipotentiary embassadors 
To prove by Scripture, treaty does imply 
^Cessation, as the look adultery ; 
And that by law of arms, in martial strife, 
Who yields his sword, has title to his life. 
Presbyter Hollis the first point should clear. 
The second Coventry the cavalier : 
But, would they not be argued back from sea. 
Then to return home straight infectd re. 



OF MARVELL. 227 

But Harry 's ordered, if they won't recall 
Their fleet, to threaten, — we will give them all. 
The Dutch are then in proclamation shent, 
For sin against the eleventh commandment. 
Hyde's flippant style there pleasantly curvets, 
Still his sharp wit on states and princes whets : 
So Spain could not escape his laughter's spleen, 
None but himself must choose the king and queen. 
But when he came the odious clause to pen, 
That summons up the parliament agen, 
His writing-master many times he banned, 
And wished himself the gout to seize his hand. 
Never old lecher more repugnant felt. 
Consenting for his rupture to be gelt. 
But still in hope he solaced, ere they come 
To work the peace, and so to send them home ; 
Or in their hasty call to find a flaw, 
Their acts to vitiate, and them overawe : 
But more relied upon this Dutch pretence, 
To raise a two-edged army for 's defence. 

First then he marched our whole militia's force, 
(As if, alas ! we ships, or Dutch had horse ;) 
Then from the usual commonplace he blames 
These, and in standing armies' praise declaims ; 
And the wise court, that always loved it dear, 
Now thinks all but too little for their fear. 
Hyde stamps, and straight upon the ground the 

swarms 
Of current myrmidons appear in arms : 



228 THE POEMS 

And for their pay he writes as from the king, 
With that cursed quill plucked from a vulture's 

wing, 
Of the whole nation now to ask a loan ; 
The eighteen hundred thousand pounds are gone. 
This* done, he pens a proclamation stout 
In rescue of the bankers banquerout. 
His minion imps, which in his secret part 
Lie nuzzling at the sacramental wart, 
Horse-leeches sucking at the hemorrhoid vein ,' 
He sucks the king, they him, he them again. 
The kingdom's farm he lets to them bid least, 
(Greater the bribe) and cheats at interest. 
Here men induced by safety, gain, and ease, 
Their money lodge, confiscate when he please ; 
These can at need, at instant with a scrip, 
(This liked him best) his cash beyond sea whip. 
When Dutch invade, and parliament prepare ; 
How can he engines so convenient spare ? 
Let no man touch them, or demand his own, 
Pain of displeasure of great Clarendon. 

The state-affairs thus marshalled, for the rest. 
Monk in his shirt against the Dutch is pressed. 
Often, dear Painter, have I sat and mused 
Why he should be on all adventures used ; 
Do they for nothing ill, like ashen wood. 
Or think him, like Plerb-John, for nothing good ? 
Whether his valour they so much admire, 
Or that for cowardice they all retire, 



OF MARVELL. 229 

As heaven in storms, they call, in gusts of state, 
On Monk and Parliament, — jet both do hate. 
All causes sure concur, but most they think 
Under Herculean labours he may sink. 
Soon, then the independent troops Avould close, 
And Hyde's last project of his place dispose. 

Ruyter, the while,* that had our ocean curbed, 
Sailed now amongst our rivers undisturbed ; 
Surveyed their crystal streams and banks so 

green. 
And beauties ere this never naked seen : 
Through the vain sedge the bashful nymphs he 

eyed. 
Bosoms, and all which from themselves they hide. 
The sun much brighter, and the sky more clear, 
He finds, the air and all things sweeter here ; 
The sudden change, and such a tempting sight, 
Swells his old veins with fresh blood, fresh 

delight ; 
Like amorous victors he begins to shave, 
And his new face looks in the English wave ; 
His sporting navy all about him swim, 
And witness their complacence in their trim ; 
Their streaming silks play through the weather 

fair. 
And with inveigling colours court the air, 
Wliile the red flags breathe on theirtopmasts high 
Terror and war, but want an enemy. 
* The Dutch Admiral who burned our ships at Chatham. 



230 THE POEMS 

Among the shrouds the seamen sit and sing, 
And wanton boys on every rope do cling : 
Old Neptune springs the tides, and waters lent, 
(The Gods themselves do help the provident) 
And where the deep keel on the shallow cleaves, 
With trident's lever and great shoulder heaves ; 
^olus their sails inspires with eastern wind, 
Puffs them along, and breathes upon them kind ; 
With pearly shell the Tritons all the while 
Sound the sea-march, and guide to Sheppy isle. 

So have I seen in April's bud arise 
A fleet of clouds sailing along the skies ; 
The liquid region with their squadrons filled, 
Their airy sterns the sun behind doth gild. 
And gentle, gales them steer, and heaven drives, 
When all on sudden their calm bosom rives. 
With thunder and lightning from each armed 

cloud ; 
Shepherds themselves in vain in bushes shroud ; — 
So up the stream the Belgic navy glides, 
And at Sheerness unloads its stormy sides. 

Sprag there, though practised in the sea- 
command. 
With panting heart lay like a fish on land, 
And quickly judged the fort was not tenable, 
WMch if a house, yet were not tenantable ; 
No man can sit there safe, the cannon pours 
Through walls untight, and through the bullet 
showers. 



OF MARVELL. 231 



He at the first salute resolves retreat ; 

And swore that he would never more dwell 

there, 
Until the city put it in repair ; 
So he in front, his garrison in rear. 
Marched straight to Chatham to increase their 

fear. 

There our sick ships unrigged in summer lay, 
Like moulting fowl, a weak and easy prey, 
For whose strong bulk earth scarce could timber 

find, 
The ocean water, or the heavens wind. 
Those oaken giants of the ancient race, 
That ruled all seas, and did our channel grace ; 
The conscious stag, though once the forest's 

dread. 
Flies to the wood, and hides his armless head. 
Ruyter forthwith a squadron doth untack ; 
They sail securely through the river's track. 
An English pilot too (0, shame ! O, sin !) 
Cheated of 's pay, was he that showed them in. 

Our wretched ships within their fate attend, 
And all our hopes now on frail chain depend, 
(Engine so slight to guard us from the sea. 
It fitter seemed to captivate a flea ;) 
A skipper rude shocks it without respect, 
Filling his sails more force to recollect ; 



232 THE POEMS 

The English from shore the iron deaf invoke 
For its last aid : hold, chain, or we are broke ! 
But with her sailing weight the Holland keel, 
Snapping the brittle links, does thorough reel, 
And to the rest the opening passage show ; 
Monk from the bank that dismal sight does view ; 
Our feather gallants, who came down that day 
To be spectators safe of the new plaj. 
Leave him alone when first they hear the gun, 
Cornbury the fleetest, and to London run. 

Our seamen, whom no danger's shape could 
fright. 
Unpaid, refuse to mount their ships for spite. 
Or to their fellows swim on board the Dutch, 
Who show the tempting metal in their clutch. 
Oft had he sent, of Buncombe and of Legge, 
Cannon and powder, but in vain, to beg ; 
And Upnor castle's ill-deserted wall, 
Now needful does for ammunition call. 
He finds, where'er he succour might expect, 
Confusion, folly, treachery, fear, neglect. 

But when the Royal Charles (what rage ! what 
grief!) 
He saw seized, and could give her no relief; 
That sacred keel that had, as he, restored 
Its exiled sovereign on its happy board. 
And thence the British Admiral became, 
Crowned for that merit with his master's name ; 



OF MARVELL. 233 

That pleasure-boat of war, in whose dear side 
Secure, so oft he had this foe defied, 
Now a cheap spoil, and the mean victor's slave, 
Taught the Dutch colours from its top to wave, — 
Of former glories the reproachful thought, 
With present shame compared, his mind distort. 

Such from Euphrates' bank, a tigress fell 
After her robbers for her whelps doth yell. 
But sees enraged the river flow between, 
Frustrate revenge, and love bj loss more keen ; 
At her own breast her useless claws does arm, 
She tears herself, 'cause him she cannot harm. 

The guards, placed for the chain's and fleet's 
defence. 
Long since were fled on many a feigned pretence. 

Daniel had there adventured, man of might ; 
Sweet Painter, draw his picture while I write. 
Paint him of person tall, and big of bone. 
Large limbs like ox, not to be killed but shown. 
Scarce can burned ivory feign a hair so black. 
Or face so red thine ochre and thy lac ; 
Mix a vain terror in his martial look. 
And all those lines by which men are mistook. 
But when by shame constrained to go on board. 
He heard how the wild cannon nearer roared. 
And saw himself confined like sheep in pen, 
Daniel then thought he was in lion's den. 



234 THE POEMS 

But when the fire-ships terrible he saw, 
Pregnant with sulphur, nearer to him draw. 
Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, all make haste, 
Ere in the fiery Furnace they be cast ; 
Three children tall, unsinged, away they row. 
Like Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego. 
Each doleful day still with fresh loss returns, 
The Loyal London now a third time burns ; 
And the true Royal Oak, and Royal James, 
Allied in fate, increase with theirs her flames. 
Of all our navy none should now survive. 
But that the ships themselves were taught to 

dive, 
And the kind river in its creek them hides. 
Freighting their pierced keels with oozy tides ; 
Up to the bridge contagious terror struck, 
The Tower itself with the near danger shook ; 
And were not Ruyter's maw with ravage cloyed. 
Even London's ashes had been then destroyed. 
Officious fear, however to prevent 
Our loss, does so much more our loss augment. 
The Dutch had robbed those jewels of the crown ; 
Our merchant-men, lest they should burn, we 

drown : 
So when the fire did not enough devour. 
The houses were demolished near the Tower. 
Those ships that yearly from their teeming hole 
Unloaded here the birth of either pole, 
Fir from the north, and silver from the west, 
From the south perfumes, spices from the east, 



OF MARVELL. 235 

From Gambo gold, and from tlie Ganges gems, 
Take a short voyage underneath the Thames, 
Once a deep river, now with timber floored, 
And shrunk, less navigable, to a ford. 

Now nothing more at Chatham 's left to burn, 
The Holland squadron leisurely return ; 
And spite of Rupert's and of Albemarle's, 
To Ruyter's triumph led the captive Charles. 
The pleasing sight he often does prolong, 
Her mast erect, tough cordage, timber strong. 
Her moving shape, all these he doth survey. 
And all admires, but most his easy prey. 
The seamen search her all within, without ; 
Viewing her strength, they yet their conquest 

doubt ; 
Then with rude shouts, secure, the air they vex, 
With gamesome joy insulting on her decks. 
Such the feared Hebrew captive, blinded, shorn. 
Was led about in sport the public scorn. 

Black day accursed ! on thee let no man 
hail 
Out of the port, or dare to hoist a sail. 
Or row a boat in thy unlucky hour ! 
Thee, the year's monster, let thy dam devour, 
And constant Time, to keep his course yet right, 
Fill up thy space with a redoubled night. 
When aged Thames was bound with fetters base. 
And Mcdway chaste ravished before his face, 



23€ THE ^0E^r5 

And their dear offspring murdered in their sight, 

Thou and thy fellows saw the odious light. 

Sad Chance, since first that happy pair was wed. 

With all the rivers graced their nupiial bed ; 

And father Xeptune promised to resign 

His empire old to their immortal line ; 

!Xow with vain grief their vainer hope^ they rue. 

Themselves dishonoured, and the gods untrue ; 

And to each other, helpless couple, moan. 

As the sad tortoise for the sea does groan ; 

But most they for their darhng Charles complain. 

And were it burned, yet less would be their 

pain. 
To see that fatal pledge of sea-command, 
Xow in the ravisher De Ruvter's hand. 
The Thames roared, swooning Med way turned 

her tide. 
And were they mortal, both for grief had died. 

The court in flattering yet itself doth please, 
(And female Stewart there rules the four seas.) 
But fate does still accumulate our woes. 
And Richmond her commands, as Ruyter those. 

After this loss, to relish discontent. 
Some one must be accused by parliament. 
All our misc-arriages on Pett must tall. 
His name alone seems fit to answer all. 
"Whose counsel first did this mad war beget ? 
Who all commands sold through the navy ? Pett. 



OF MARVELL. 237 

Who would not follow when the Dutch were 
beat ? • 

Who treated out the time at Bergen ? Pett. 

Who the Dutch fleet with storms disabled met ? 

And, rifling prizes, them neglected ? Pett. 

Vrho with false news prevented the Gazette ? 

The fleet divided? writ for Rupert? Pett. 

Who all our seamen cheated of their debt, 

And all our prizes who did swallow ? Pett. 

Who did advise no navy out to set ? 

And who the forts left unprepared ? Pett. 

Who to supply with powder did forget 

Languard, Sheerness, Gravesend, and Upnor? 
Pett. 

Who all our ships exposed in Chatham net ? 

Who should it be but the fanatic Pett ? 

Pett, the sea-architect in making ships. 

Was the first cause of all these naval slips ; 

Had he not built, none of these faults had been ; 

If no creation, there had been no sin ; 

But his great crime, one boat away he sent, 

That lost our fleet and did our flight prevent. 

Then, that reward might in its turn take place. 

And march with punishment in equal pace, 

Southampton dead, much of the treasure's care, 

And place in council, fell to Duncombe's share. 

All men admired he to that pitch could fly : 

Powder ne'er blew man up so soon, so high ; 

But sure his late good husbandry in petre, 

Showed him to manage the Exchequer meeter ; 



238 THE POEMS 

And who the forts would not vouchsafe a corn, 
To lavish the king's money more would scorn ; 
Who hath no chimneys, to give all, is best. 
And ablest speaker, who of law hath least ; 
Who less estate, for treasurer most fit. 
And for a chancellor he that has least wit ; 
But the true cause was, that in 's brother May, 
The Exchequer might the privy-purse obey. 

And now draws near the parliament's return ; 
Hyde and the court again begin to mourn ; 
Frequent in council, earnest in debate. 
All arts they try how to prolong its date. 
Grave Primate Sheldon (much in preaching 

there) 
Blames the last session, and this more does fear : 
With Boynton or with Middleton 'twere sweet, 
But with a parliament abhors to meet ; 
And thinks 'twill ne'er be well within this nation. 
Till it be governed by a Convocation. 

But in the Thames' mouth still De Ruyter 
laid ; 
The peace not sure, new army must be paid. 
Hyde saith he hourly waits for a despatch ; 
Harry came post just as he showed his watch. 
All to agree the articles were clear. 
The Holland fleet and parliament so near, 
Yet Harry must job back and all mature. 
Binding, ere the houses meet, the treaty sure j 



OF MARVELL. 239 

And 'twixt necessity and spite, till then 
Let them come up, so to go down again. 
Up ambles country justice on his pad, 
And vest bespeaks, to be more seemly clad. 
Plain gentlemen are in stage-coach o'erthrown. 
And deputy-lieutenants in their own ; 
The portly burgess, through the weather hot. 
Does for his corporation sweat and trot ; 
And all with sun and choler come adust, 
And threaten Hyde to raise a greater dust. 

But fresh, as from the mint, the courtiers fine 
Salute them, smiling at their vain design ; 
And Turner gay up to his perch doth march, 
With face new bleached, smoothed, and stiff with 

starch ; 
Tells them he at "Whitehall had took a turn, 
And for three days thence moves them to adjourn. 
Not so, quoth Tomkins, and straight drew his 

tongue, 
Trusty as steel that always ready hung ; 
And so proceeding in his motion warm. 
The army soon raised, he doth as soon disarm. 
True Trojan ! whilst this town can girls afford. 
And long as cider lasts in Hereford, 
The girls shall always kiss thee, though grown old, 
And in eternal healths thy name be trolled. 

Meanwhile the certain news of peace arrives 
At court, and so reprieves their guilty lives. 



240 THE POEMS 

Hyde orders Turner that he should come late, 
Lest some new Tomkms spring a fresh debate ; 
The king, that early raised was from his rest, 
Expects, as at a play, till Turner 's dressed ; 
At last, together Eaton came and he, 
No dial more could with the sun agree ; 
The speaker, summoned to the Lords, repairs. 
Nor gave the Commons leave to say their 

prayers. 
But like his prisoners to the bar them led, 
Where mute they stand to hear their sentence 

read : 
Trembling with joy and fear, Hyde them pro- 
rogues, 
And had almost mistook, and called them rogues. 

Dear Painter, draw this Speaker to the foot : 
Where pencil cannot, there my pen shall do 't ; 
That may his body, this his mind explain ; 
Paint him in golden gown witli mace's train ; 
Bright hair, fair face, obscure and dull of head, 
Like knife with ivory haft, and edge of lead : 
At prayers his eyes turn up the pious white. 
But all the while his private bill 's in sight : 
In chair he smoking sits like master cook, 
And a poll-bill does like his apron look. 
Well was he skilled to season any question. 
And make a sauce fit for Whitehall's digestion. 
Whence every day, the prelate more to tickle, 
Court-mushrooms ready are sent in to pickle. 



OF MAKVELL. 241 

"When grievances urged, be swells like squatted 

toad, 
Frisks like a frog to croak a tax's load : 
His patient piss he could hold longer than 
An urinal, and sit like any hen ; 
At table jolly as a country host. 
And soaks his sack with Norfolk like a toast ; 
At night than Chanticleer more brisk and hot. 
And sergeant's wife serves him for Partelot. 

Paint last the King, and a dead shade of night, 
Only dispersed by a weak taper's light. 
And those bright gleams which dart along and 

glare 
From his clear eyes, (yet these too dart with care ;) 
There, as in the calm horror all alone. 
He wakes and muses of the uneasy throne. 
Raise up a sudden shape with virgin's face. 
Though ill agree her posture, hour or place ; 
Naked as born, and her round arms behind, 
With her own tresses interwove and twined : 
Her mouth locked up, a blind before her eyes, 
Yet from beneath her veil her blushes rise, 
And silent tears her secret anguish speak, 
Her heart throbs, and with very shame would 

break. 
Tlie object strange in him no terror moved, 
He wondered first, then pitied, then he loved : 
And with kind hand does the coy vision press. 
Whose beauty greater seemed by her distress : 
16 



242 THE POEMS 

But soon shrunk back, chilled with a touch so 

cold, 
And the airy picture vanished from his hold. 
In his deep thoughts the wonder did increase, 
And he divined 'twas England, or the peaee. 
Express him startling next, with listening ear. 
As one that some unusual noise doth hear ; 
With cannons, trumpets, drums, his door sur- 
round, 
But let some other Painter draw the sound. 
Thrice he did rise, thrice the vain tumult fled, 
But again thunders when he lies in bed. 
His mind secure does the vain stroke repeat, 
And finds the drums Lewis's march did beat. 
Shake then the room, and all his curtains tear. 
And with blue streaks infect the taper clear. 
While the pale ghost his eyes doth fixed admire 
Of grandsire Harry, and of Charles his sire. 
Harry sits down, and in his open side 
The grisly wound reveals of which he died ; 
And ghostly Charles, turning his collar -low, 
The purple thread about his neck doth show ; 
Then whispering to his son in words unheard. 
Through the locked door both of them disappeared. 
The wondrous night the pensive King revolves, 
And rising straight, on Hyde's disgrace resolves. 
At his first step he Castlemain does find, 
Bennet and Coventry as 'twas designed ; 
And they not knowing, the same thing propose 
\^^iieh his hid mind did in its depths inclose. 



OF MARVELL. 243 

Through their feigned speech their secret hearts 

he knew, 
To her own husband Castlemain untrue ; 
False to his master Bristol, Arlington; 
And Coventry falser than any one, 
AVlio to his brother, brother would betray ;. 
Nor therefore trusts himself to such as they. 
His father's ghost too whispered him one note, 
Tliat who does cut his purse will cut his throat ; 
But he in wise anger does their crimes forbear, 
As thieves reprieved from executioner, 
While Hyde, provoked, his foaming tusk does 

whet. 
To prove them traitors, and himself the Pett. 

Painter adjourn. How well our arts agree ! 
Poetic picture, painted poetry ! 
But this great work is for our monarch fit. 
And henceforth Charles only to Charles shall sit ; 
His master-hand the ancients shall outdo. 
Himself the Painter, and the Poet too. 



244 THE POEMS 



TO THE KING. 

So his bold tube man to the sun applied, 
And spots unknown in the bright star descried, 
Showed thej obscure him, while too near they 

please, 
And seem his courtiers, are but his disease ; 
Through optic trunk the planet seemed to hear. 
And hurls them off e'er since in his career. 

And you, great Sir, that with him empire 

share. 
Sun of our world, as he the Charles is there, 
Blame not the Muse that brought those spots to 

sight. 
Which, in your splendour hid, corrode your 

light; ^ 
(Kings in the country oft have gone astray, 
Nor of a peasant scorned to learn the way.) 
Would she the unattended throne reduce, 
Banishing love, trust, ornament, and use ; 



OF MARVELL. 245 

Better it were to live in cloister's lock, 

Or in fair fields to rule the easy flock : 

She blames them only who the court restrain, 

And where all England serves, themselves would 



Bold and accursed are they who all this while 
Have strove to isle this monarch from this isle, 
And to improve themselves by false pretence, 
About the common prince have raised a fence ; 
The kingdom from the crown distinct would see. 
And peel the bark to burn at last the tree. 
As Ceres corn, and Flora is the spring, 
As Bacchus wine, the Country is the King. 

Not so does rust insinuating wear. 
Nor powder so the vaulted bastion tear, 
Nor earthquakes so an hollow isle o'erwhelra. 
As scratching courtiers undermine a realm. 
And through the palace's foundations bore. 
Burrowing themselves to hoard their guilty 

store. 
The smallest vermin make the greatest waste, 
And a: poor warren once a city rased. 
But they whom born to virtue and to wealth. 
Nor guilt to flattery binds, nor want to stealth ; 
Whose generous conscience, and whose courage 

high, 
Does with clear counsels their large souls 

supply ; 



246 THE POEMS 

Who serve the king with their estates and care, 
And as in love on parliaments can stare ; 
Where few the number, choice is there less 

hard; 
Give us this court, and rule without a guard. 



END OF THE FIRST PART. 



OF MARYELL. 24^ 



INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER. 

PART n. 

Spread a large canvas, Painter, to contain 
The great assembly, and the numerous train ; 
Where all about him shall in triumph sit. 
Abhorring wisdom, and despising wit ; 
Hating all justice, and resolved to fight. 
To rob their native country of their right. 

First draw his Highness prostrate to the 
south, 
Adoring Rome, this label in his mouth, — 
" Most holy father ! being joined in league 
•' With father Patrick, Danby, and with Teague, 
" Thrown at your sacred feet, I humbly bow% 
" I, and the wise associates of my vow, 
" A vow, nor fire nor sword shall ever end, 
" Till all this nation to your footstool bend. 
" Thus armed with zeal and blessing from your 

hands, 
'• I '11 raise my Papists, and my Irish bands, 



248 THE POEMS 

" And by a noble well-contrived plot, 

" Managed by wise Fitz-Gerald, and by Scott, 

" Prove to the world, I '11 make old England 

know, 
" That common sense is my eternal foe. 
" I ne'er can fight in a more glorious cause, 
" Than to destroy their liberty and laws ; 
'^ Their House of Commons, and their House of 

Lords, 
" Their parchment precedents, and dull records, 
" Shall these e'er dare to contradict my will, ^ 
" And think a prince o'the blood can e'er do ill ? V 
" It is our birthright to have power to kill. J 

'' Shall they e'er dare to think they shall decide 
" The way to heaven, and who shall be my 

guide ? 
" Shall they pretend to say, that bread is bread, 
" If we affirm it is a God indeed ? 
" Or there 's no Purgatory for the dead ? 
" That extreme unction is but common oil? 
" And not infallible the Roman soil ? 
"I '11 have those villains in our notions rest ; 
" And I do say it, therefore it 's the best." 



Next, Painter, draw his Mordaunt by his side, 
Conveying his religion and his bride : 
He, who long since abjured the royal line, 
Does now in popery with his master join. 
Then draw the princess with her golden locks, 
Hastening to be envenomed with the pox, 



OP MARVELL. 249 

And in her youthful veins receive a wound, 
Which sent N. H. before her under ground ; 

The wound of which the tainted C ret fades, 

Laid up in store for a new set of maids. 
Poor princess, born under a sullen star, 
To find such welcome when you came so far I 
Better some jealous neighbour of your own 
Had called you to a sound, though petty 

throne ; 
Where 'twixt a wholesome husband and a page, 
You might have lingered out a lazy age, 
Than on dull hopes of being here a Queen, 
Ere twenty die, and rot before fifteen. 
Now, Painter, show us in the blackest dye, 
The counselfors of all this villany. 
Clifford, who first appeared in humble guise, 
Was always thought too gentle, meek, and 

wise ; 
But when he came to act upon the stage, 
He proved the mad Cethegus of our age. 
He and his Duke had both too great a mind, 
To be by justice or by law confined : 
Their broiling heads can bear no other sounds, 
Than fleets and armies, battles, blood and 

wounds : 
And to destroy our liberty they hope, 
By Irish fools, and an old doting Poj^e. 

Next, Talbot must by his great master stand. 
Laden with folly, flesh, and ill-got laud ; 



250 THE POfiMS 

He 's of a size indeed to fill a porch, 

But ne'er can make a pillar of the church. 

His sword is all his argument, not his book ; 

Although no scholar, he can act the cook, 

And will cut throats again, if he be paid ; 

In the Irish shambles he first learned the trade. 

Then, Painter, show thy skill, and in fit place 
Let 's see the nuncio Arundel's sweet face ; 
Let the beholders by thy art espy 
His sense and soul, as squinting as his eye. 

Let Bellasis' autumnal face be seen, 
Rich with the spoils of a poor Algerine ; 
Who, trusting in him, was by him betrayed, 
And so shall we, be his advice obeyed. 
The hero once got honour by his sword ; 
He got his wealth by breaking of his word ; 
And now his daughter he hath got with child, 
And pimps to have his family defiled. 

Next, Painter, draw the rabble of the plot ; 
Jermain, Fitz-Gerald, Loftus, Porter, Scott : 
These are fit heads indeed to turn a state, 
And change the order of a nation's fate ; 
Ten thousand such as these shall ne'er control 
The smallest atom of an English soul. 

Old England on its strong foundation stands, 
Defying all their heads and all their hands ; 



OF MARVELL. 251 

Its steady basis never could be shook, 
When wiser men her ruin undertook ; 
And can her guardian angel let her stoop 
At last to madmen, fools, and to the Pope ? 
No, Painter, no ! close up the piece, and see 
This crowd of traitors hanged in effigy. 



252 THE POEMS 



TO THE lONG. 

Great Charles, who full of mercy might'st com- 
mand, 
In peace and pleasure, this thy native land. 
At last take pity of thy tottering throne, 
Shook by the faults of others, not thine own ; 
Let not thy life and crown together end, 
Destroyed by a false brother and false friend. 
Observe the danger that appears so near. 
That all your subjects do each minute fear : 
One drop of poison, or a popish knife. 
Ends all the joys of England with thy life. 
Brothers, 'tis true, by nature should be kind ; 
But a too zealous and ambitious mind, 
Bribed with a crown on earth, and one above. 
Harbours no friendship, tenderness, or love. 
See in all ages what examples are 
Of monarchs murdered by the impatient heir. 
Hard fate of princes, who will ne'er believe. 
Till the stroke's struck which they can ne'er 
retrieve 1 



END OF THE SECO:)JD PART. 



OP MARVELL. 253 



INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER. 

PART III. 

Painter, once more thj pencil reassume, 

And draw me, in one scene, London and Rome : 

Here holy Charles, there good Aurelius sat, 

Weeping to see their sons degenerate ; 

His Romans taking up the teemer's trade, 

The Britons jigging it in masquerade ; 

While the brave youths, tired with the toil of 

state. 
Their weary minds and limbs to recreate, 
Do to their more beloved delights repair. 
One to his — , the other to his player. 

Then change the scene, and let the next 
present 
A landscape of our motley Parliament ; 
And place, hard by the bar, on the left hand, 
Circean Clifford with his charming wand; 

Our pigHsyed on his — fashion, 

Set by the worst attorney of our nation. 
This great triumvirate that can divide 
The spoils of England; and along that side 



254 THE POEMS 

Place Falstaff's regiment of threadbare coats, 

All looking this way, how to give their votes ; 

And of his dear reward let none despair, 

For money comes when Sey r leaves the chair. 

Change once again, and let the next afford 

The figure of a motley council-board 

At Arlington's, and round about it set 

Our mighty masters in a warm debate. 

Full bowls of lusty wine make them repeat. 

To make the other council-board forget 

That while the King of France with powerful 

arms. 

Gives all his fearful neighbours strange alarms, 

We in our glorious bacchanals dispose 

The humbled fate of a plebeian nose ; * 

Which to effect, when thus it was decreed, 

Draw me a champion mounted on a steed ; 

And after him a brave brigade of horse. 

Armed at all points, ready to reenforce 

His ; this assault upon a single man. 
***** 

'Tis this must make O'Brian great in story, 
And add more beams to Sands's former glory. 

Draw our Olympia next, in council set 

With Cupid, S r, and the tool of state : 

Two of the first recanters of the house. 

That aim at mountains, and bring forth a mouje ; 

* Alluding to the assault upon Sir John Coventry. 



OF MARVELL. 255 

Who make it, by their mean retreat, -appear 
Five members need not be demanded here. 
These must assist her in her countermines, 
To overthrow the Derby-House designs ; 
AVhilst Positive walks, like Woodcock in the park, 
Contriving projects with a brewer's clerk ; * 
Thus all employ themselves, and, without pity. 
Leave Temple singly to be beat in the city. 

* Sii- Robert Howard, and Sir William Bucknell the brewer. 



END OF THE THIRD PART. 



256 THE POEMS 



A 

DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO HORSES. 

16 74. 

THE INTRODUCTION. 

We read, in profone and sacred records, 

Of beasts which have uttered articulate words : 

W^hen magpies and parrots cry, walk, knaves, 

ivalk ! 
It is a clear proof that birds too may talk ; 
And statues, without either windpipes or lungs. 
Have spoken as plainly as men do with tongues. 
Li-vy tells a strange story, can hardly be fellowed. 
That a sacrificed ox, when his guts were out, 

bellowed ; 
Phalaris had a bull, which, as grave authors 

tell ye. 
Would roar like a devil with a man in his belly ; 
Friar Bacon had a head that spake, made of 

brass ; 
And Balaam the prophet was reproved by his ass ; 
At Delphos and Rome stocks and stones, now 

and then, sirs, 
Have to questions returned articulate answers. 



OF 3IARVELL. 257 

All Popish believers think something divine, 
When images speak, possesseth the shrine ; 
But they who faith catholic ne'er understood, 
When shrines give an answer, a knave 's on the 

rood. 
Those idols ne'er spoke, but are miracles done 
By the devil, a priest, a friar, or a nun. 
If the Roman church, good Christians, oblige ye 
To believe man and beast have spoke in effigy, 
Why should we not credit the public discourses, 
In a dialogue between two inanimate horses ? 
The horses I mean of Wool-Church and Charing, 
Who told many truths worth any man's hearing, 
Since Viner and Osborn did buy and provide 'em* 
For the two mighty monarchs who now do 

bestride 'em. 
The stately brass stallion, and the white marble 

steed. 
The night came together, by all 'tis agreed ; 
When both kings were weary of sitting all day, 
They stole off, incognito, each his own way ; 
And then the two jades, after mutual salutes. 
Not only discoursed, but fell to disputes. 

* The statue at Charing-Cross was erected by the Lord 
Danby; that at Wool-Church by Sir Kobert Viner, then 
lord-mayor. 



17 



258 THE POEMS 



THE DIALOGUE. 
Quoth the marble horse, 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

It would make a stone speak, 
To see a lord-mayor and a Lombard-street break,* 
Thy founder and mine to cheat one another, 
When both knaves agreed to be each other's 
brother, — 

Here Charing broke forth, and thus he went on : 

CHARING. 

My brass is provoked as much as thy stone. 
To see church and state bow down to a whore, 
And the king's chief-minister holding the door ; 
The money of widows and orphans employed. 
And the bankers quite broke to maintain the 
whore's pride. 

* Alludiiio; to the failure of the bankers. 



OF MARYELL. 259 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

To see Dei Gratia writ on the throne, 
And the king's wicked life saj, God there is 
none. 

CHARING. 

That he should be styled Defender of the Faith, 
Who believes not a word what the word of God 
saith. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That the Duke should turn papist, and that church 

defy, 
For which his own father a martyr did die. 

CHARING. 

Though he changed his religion, I hope he 's so 

civil 
Not to think his own father is gone to the Devil. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That bondage and beggary should be in a nation 
By a cursed House of Commons, and a blessed 
Restoration. 

CHARING. 

To see a white staff make a beggar a lord. 
And scarce a wise man at a Ions council-board. 



260 THE POEMS 

WOOL-CHUECH. 

That the Bank should be seized, vet the 'Chequer 

so poor, 
{Lord have mercy !) and a cross might be set on 

the door. 

CHABING. 

That a million and half should be the revenue, 
Yet the King of his debts pay no man a 
penny. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That the King should consume three kingdoms' 

estates, 
And yet all the court be as poor as church rats. 

CHAHING. 

That of four seas dominion, and of all their 

OTiardin^, 
No token should appear, but a poor copper 

farthing. 

WOOL-CHUECH- 

Our worm-eaten ships to be laid up at Chatham, 
Not our trade to secure, but for fools to come 
at 'em.* 

* AJliiding to our sliips being bxiriied by the Dutch.. 



OF MARYELL. 2G1 

CHARIXG. 

And our few ships abroad become Tripoli's scorn, 
By pawning for victuals their guns at Leghorn. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That making us slaves by horse and foot guards, 
For restoring the king, shall be all our rewards. 

CHARING. 

The basest ingratitude ever was heard ! 
But tyrants ungi'ateful are always afeared. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

On Harry the Seventh's head who placed the 

crown, 
Was after rewarded by losing his own. 

CHARING. 

That parliament-men should rail at the court, 
And get good preferments immediately for 't ; 
To see them who suffered for father and son, 
And helped to bring the latter to his throne, 
Who with lives and estates did loyally serve, 
And yet for all this can nothing deserve ; 
The king looks not on 'em, preferment 's denied 'em, 
The roundheads insult, and the courtiers deride 

'em. 
And none get preferments, but who will betray 
Their country to ruin ; 'tis that opes the way 
Of the bold talkinsr members. 



2C2 THE rOEilS 

WOOL-CHUISCH. 

Of the bastards vou add 
Wliat a number of rascally lords have been made, 

CHAELS'G. 

That traitors to a countrj. in a bribed House of 

Commons, 
Should give away millions at erery summons. 

TTOOL-CHTECH. 

Yet some of those givers, such beggarly villains, 
As not to be trusted for twice fifty shillings. 

CHARTN'G- 

its wonder that beggars should still be for giving. 
Who out of what 's given do get a good living. 

"WOOL-CHUKCH. 

Four knights and a knave, who were burgesses 

made, 
For 5eUing their consciences were liberally paid. 

CHAfilXG. 

How b^ are the souls of such low-prized sinners, 

Who vote with the country for drink and for 
dinners ! 

VOOL-CHUECH. 

Tis they who brought on us this scandalous yoke, 
Of excising our cups, and taxing our smoke. 



OF MARVELL. 263 

CHARING. 

But thanks to the whores who made the king- 
dogged, 
For giving no more the rogues are prorogued. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That a king should endeavour to make a war 

cease, 
TVhich augments and secures his own profit and 

peace. 

CHARING. 

And plenipotentiaries sent into France, 
With an addle-headed knight, and a lord without 
brains. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

That the king should send for another French 

whore, 
When one already had made him so poor. 

CHARING. 

The misses take place, each advanced to be 

duchess. 
With pomp great as queens in their coach and 

six horses ; 
Their bastards made dukes, earls, viscounts, and 

lords, 
And all the high titles that honour affords. 



264 THE POEMS 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

While these brats and their mothers do live in 

such plenty, 
The nation 's impoverished, and the 'Chequer 

quite empty ; 
And though war was pretended when the money 

was lent, 
More on whores, than in ships or in war, hath 

been spent. 

CHARING. 

Enough, my dear brother, although we speak 

reason. 
Yet truth many times being punished for treason, 
We ought to be wary, and bridle our tongue, 
Bold speaking hath done both men and beasts 

wrong. 
When the ass so boldly rebuked the prophet. 
Thou knowest what danger had like to come of it ; 
Though the beast gave his master ne'er an ill 

word, 
Instead of a cudgel, Balaam wished for a sword. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

Truth 's as bold as a lion, I am not afraid ; 
I '11 prove every tittle of what I have said. 
Our riders are absent, who is 't that can hear ? 
Let's be true to ourselves, whom then need we fear? 
Where is thy king gone ? 



OP MARVELL. 265 

CHARING. 

To see bishop Laud. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

To cuckold a scrivener, mine is in masquerade ; 
For on such occasions he oft steals away, 
And returns to remount me about break of day. 
In very dark nights sometimes you may find him. 
With a harlot got up on my crupper behind him. 

CHARING. 

Pause brother awhile, and calmly consider 
What thou hast to say against my royal rider. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

Thy priest-ridden king turned desperate fighter 
For the surplice, lawn-sleeves, the cross, and the 

mitre ; 
Till at last on the scaffold he was left in the 

lurch. 
By knaves, who cried up themselves for the 

church. 
Archbishops and bishops, archdeacons and deans. 

CHARING. 

Thy king will ne'er fight unless for his queans. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

He that dies for ceremonies, dies like a fool. 



266 THE POEMS 

CHARING. 

The king on thy back is a lamentable tool. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

The goat and the lion I equally hate, 
And freemen alike value life and estate ; 
Though the father and son be different rods, 
Between the two scourgers we find little odds ; 
Both infamous stand in three kingdoms' votes. 
This for picking our pockets, that for cutting our 
throats. 

CHARING. 

More tolerable are the lion-king's slaughters, 
Than the goat making whores of our wives and 

our daughters : 
The debauched and cruel since they equally 

gall us, 
I had rather bear Nero than Sardanapalus. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

One of the two tyrants must still be our case, 
Under all who shall reign of the false Stuart's 

race. 
DeWitt and Cromwell had each a brave soul, 
I freely declare it, I am for old Noll ; 
Though his government did a tyrant resemble. 
He made England great, and his enemies 

tremble. 



OF MARVELL. 267 



CHARING. 



Thy rider puts no man to death in his wrath, 
But is buried alive in lust and in sloth. 

WOOL-CHURCH. 

What is thy opinion of James, Duke of York ? 

CHARING. 

The same that the frogs had of Jupiter's stork. 
With the Turk in his head, and the Pope in his 

heart, 
Father Patrick's disciples will make England- 

smart. 
If e'er he be king, I know Britain's doom. 
We must all to a stake, or be converts to Rome. 
Ah, Tudor ! ah, Tudor ! of Stuarts enough ; 
None ever reigned like old Bess in the ruff. 
Her Walsingham could dark counsels unriddle. 
And our Sir Joseph write news, books, and fiddle. 

TVOOL-CHURCH. 

Truth, brother, well said ; but that 's somewhat 

bitter ; 
His perfumed predecessor was never more 

fitter : 
Yet we have one secretary honest and wise ; 
For that very reason, he 's never to rise. 
But can'st thou devise when things will be 

mended ? 



268 THE POEMS 

CHARING. 

When the reign of the line of the Stuarts is ended. 

CONCLUSION. 

If speeches from animals in Rome's first age, 

Prodigious events did surely presage, 

That should come to pass, all mankind may 

swear 
That which two inanimate horses declare. 
But I should have told you before the jades 

parted. 
Both galloped to Whitehall, and there humbly 

farted ; 
Which tyranny's downfall portended much more, 
Than all that the beasts had spoken before. 
If the Delphic Sibyl's oracular speeches 
(As learned men say) came out of their breeches, 
Why might not our horses, since words are but 

wind, 
Have the spirit of i^rophecy likewise behind ? 
Though tyrants make laws, which they strictly 

proclaim, 
To conceal their own faults and to cover their 

shame, [the wall. 

Yet the beasts in the field, and the stones in 
Will publish their faults and prophesy their fall ; 
When they take from the people the freedom of 

words. 
They teach them the sooner to fall to their swords. 



OP MARVELL. 269 

Let the city drink coffee and quietly groan, — 
They who conquered the father won't be slaves 

to the son. 
For wine and strong drink make tumults increase, 
Chocolate, tea, and coffee, are liquors of peace ; 
No quarrels, or oaths are among those who drink 

'em, 
'Tis Bacchus and the brewer swear, damn 'em 1 

and sink 'em / 
Then Charles thy edict against coffee recall, 
There 's ten times more treason in brandy and ale. 



270 THE POEMS 



HODGE'S VISION FROM THE MONUMENT, 

DECEMBER 1675. 

A country clown called Hodge, went up to view 
The pyramid ; pray mark what did ensue. 



When Hodge had numbered up how many score 
The airy pyramid contained, he swore 
No mortal wight e'er climbed so high before. 
To the best vantage placed, he views around 
The imperial town, with lofty turrets crowned ; 
That wealthy storehouse of the bounteous flood, 
Whose peaceful tides o'erflow our land with 

good; 
Confused forms flit by his wandering eyes, 
And his lapped soul 's o'erwhelmed with extasies. 
Some god it seems has entered his plain breast. 
And with 's abode the rustic mansion blessed ; 
A mighty change he feels in every part. 
Light shines in 's eyes, and wisdom rules his 

heart. 
So when her pious son fair Venus showed 
His flaming Troy, with slaughtered Dardans 

strewed. 



OF MARVELL. 271 

She purged his optics, filled with mortal night, 
And Troy's sad doom he read by heaven's light. 
Such light divine broke on the clouded eyes 
Of humble Hodge. 

Regions remote, courts, councils, policies, 
The circling wiles of tyrants' treacheries 
He views, discerns, unciphers, penetrates, 
From Charles's Dukes, to Europe's armed 

states. 
First he beholds proud Rome and France com- 
bined, 
By double vassalage to enslave mankind ; 
That would the soul, this would the body sway. 
Their bulls and edicts none must disobey. 
For these with war sad Europe they inflame, 
Rome says for God, and France declares for 

fame. 
See, sons of Satan, how religion's force 
Is gentleness, fame bought with blood a curse. 
He whom all styled " Delight of human kind," 
Justice and mercy, truth with honour joined ; 
His kindly rays cherished the teeming earth. 
And struggling virtue blessed with prosperous 

birth. 
Like Chaos you the tottering globe invade, 
Religion cheat, and war ye make a trade. 
Next the lewd palace of the plotting King, 
To 's e} es new scenes of frantic folly bring. 
Behold (says he) the fountain of our woe, 
From whence our vices and our ruin flow. 



272 THE POEMS 

Here parents their own offspring prostitute, 
By such vile arts to obtain some viler suit. 
Here blooming youth adore Priapus' shrine, 
And priests pronounce him sacred and divine. 
The goatish god behold in his alcove, 
(The secret scene of damned incestuous love) 
Melting in lust, and drunk like Lot, he hes 
Betwixt two bright daughter-divinities. 
Oh ! that like Saturn he had eat his brood. 
And had been thus stained with their impious [ 
blood ; I 

He had in that less ill, more manhood showed. 
Cease, cease. (O Charles) thus to pollute our 

isle, 
Ketum, return, to thj long-wished exile ; 
There with thy court defile thy neighbour- 
states. 
And with their crimes precipitate their fates. 
See where the Di^ke in damned divan does sit, 
To 's vast designs wracking his pigmy wit : 
TThilst a choice senate of the Ignatian crew. 
The ways to murder, treason, conquest show. 
Dissenters they oppress with law severe, ^ 

That whilst to wound those innocents we fear, V 
Their cursed sect we may be forced to spare. J 
Twice the reformed must fight a bloody prize, 
That Rome and France may on their ruin rise. 
Old Bonner single heretics did bum, 
These reformed cities into ashes turn, 
And everv vear new fires do make us mourn. 



OF MARYELL. 273 



Ireland stands ready for his cruel reign ; 
Well-fattened once, she gapes for blood again, 
For blood of English martyrs basely slain. 
Our valiant youth abroad must learn the trade 
Of unjust war, their country to invade, 
Whilst others here do guard us, to prepare 
Our galled necks his iron yoke to bear. 
Lo I how the Wight already is betrayed. 
And Bashaw Holmes does the poor isle invade. 
To ensure the plot, France must her legions 

lend, 
Rome to restore, and to enthrone Rome's friend. 
'Tis in return, James does our fleet betray, 
(That fleet whose thunder made the world obey.) 
Ships once our safety, and our glorious might, 
Are doomed with worms and rottenness to fi^ht. 
Whilst France rides sovereign o'er the British 

main, 
Our merchants robbed, and our brave seamen 

ta'en. 
Thus the rash Phaeton with fury hurled, 
And rapid rage, consumes our British world. 
Blast him, O heavens ! in his mad career. 
And let this isle no more his frenzy fear. 
Cursed James, 'tis he that all good men abhor, 
False to thyself, and to thy friend much more j 
To him who did thy promised pardon hope,* 
Whilst with pretended joy he kissed the rope : 

* Coleman. 

18 



274 THE POEMS 

O'erwhelmed with guilt, and gasping out a lie, 
Deceived and unprepared, tliou let'dst him die. 
With equal gratitude and charity. 
In spite of Jermin, and of black -mouthed 

fame, 
This Stuart's trick legitimates thy name. 
With one consent we all her death desire, 
Who durst her husband's and her king's 

conspire.* 
And now just Heaven's prepared to set us free. 
Heaven and our hopes are both opposed by 

thee. 
Thus fondly thou dost Hyde's old treason own, 
Thus make thy new-suspected treason known. 

Bless me ! What 's that at Westminster 

I see? 
That piece of legislative pageantry ! 
To our dear James has Rome her conclave 

lent? 
Or has Charles bought the Paris parliament ? 
None else James would promote with so much 

zeal. 
Who by proviso hopes the crown to steal. 
See how in humble guise the slaves advance, 
To tell a tale of army, and of France, 
Whilst proud prerogative in scornful guise, 
Their fear, love, duty, danger, does despise. 

* Queen Catherine was suspected to be in a plot against 
the king's life. 



OP MAKVELL. 275 

There, in a bribed committee, they contrive 

To give our birthrights to prerogative : 

Give, did I say ? They sell, and sell so dear 

That half each tax Danby distributes there. 

Danby, 'tis fit the price so great shall be, 

They sell religion, sell their liberty. 

These vipers have their mother's entrails torn, 

And would by force a second time be born. 

They haunt the place to which you once were sent, 

This ghost of a departed parliament. 

Gibbets and halters, countrymen, prepare. 

Let none, let none their renegadoes spare. 

When that day comes, we '11 part the sheep and 
goats. 

The spruce bribed monsieurs from the true gray 
coats. 

New parliaments, like manna, all tastes please, 

But kept too long, our food turns our disease. 

From that loathed sight, Hodge turned his weep- 
ing eyes. 

And London thus alarms with loyal cries : 

'' Though common danger does approach so nigh, 

This stupid town sleeps in security. 

Out of your golden dreams awake, awake, 

Your all, though you see not, your all 's at 
stake ! 

More dreadful fires approach your falling town -. 

Than those which burned your stately struc- 
tures down, 

Such fatal fires as once in Smithfield shone. 



I 



276 THE POEMS 

If then ye stay till Edwards orders give,* 
No mortal arm your safety can retrieve. 
See how with golden baits the crafty Gaul 
Has bribed our geese to yield the capitol. 
And will ye tamely see yourselves betrayed ? 
Will none stand up in our dear country's aid ? 

" Self-preservation, nature's first great law, 
All the creation, except man, does awe : 
'Twas in him fixed, till lying priests defaced 
His heaven-born mind, and nature's tablets 

rased. 
Tell me, ye forging crew, wdiat law revealed 
By God, to kings the jus divinum sealed? 
If to do good, jejus divinum call. 
It is the grand prerogative of all : 
If to do ill, unpunished, be their right. 
Such power's not granted that great king of 

night. 
Man's life moves on the poles of hope and fear. 
Reward and pain all orders do revere. 
But if your dear lord sovereign you would spare, 
Admonish him in his blood-thirsty heir. 
So when the royal lion does offend. 
The beaten cur's example makes him mend." 
This said, poor Hodge, then in a broken tone. 
Cried out, " Oh Charles ! thy life, thy life, thy 



* Edwards, then lord-mayor. 



OF MARVELL. 277 

Ambitious James, and bloody priests conspire, 
Plots, papists, murders, massacres, and fire ; 
Poor Protestants ! " with that his eyes did roll, 
Ilis body fell, out fled his frighted soul. 



278 THE POEMS 



CLARENDON'S HOUSE-WAEMING. 

WHEisr Clarendon had discerned beforehand 
(As the cause can easily foretell the effect) 

At once three deluges threatening our land,* 
'Twas the season, he thought, to turn architect. 

Us Mars, and Apollo, and Vulcan consume ; 
While he the betrayer of England and 
Flanders, 
Like the kingfisher chooseth to build in the 
broom, 
Ajid nestles in flames like the salamander. 

But observing that mortals run often behind, 
(So unreasonable are the rates they buy at) 

His omnipotence therefore much rather designed, 
How he might create a house with a fiat. 

He had read of Rhodope, a lady of Thrace, 
Who was digged up so often ere she did marry ; 

* The Dutch war, the plague, and the fire of London. 



OF MARVELL. 279 

And wished that his daughter had had as much 
grace, 
To erect him a pyramid out of her quarry. 

But then recollecting how the harper Amphlon 
Made Thebes dance aloft while he fiddled and 
sung, 
He thought, as an instrument he was most free on, 
To build with the Jew's-trump of his own tongue. 

Yet a precedent fitter in Virgil he found, 

Of African Poultney, and Tyrian Dide ; 
That he begged for a palace so much of his 
ground,* 
As might carry the measure and name of a 
Hyde. 

Thus daily his gouty inventions him pained, 
And all for to save the expenses of brickbat ; 

That engine so fatal which Denham had brained, 
And too much resembled this wife's chocolate. 

But while these devices he all doth comjjare. 
None solid enough seemed for his strong castor ; 

He himself would not dwell in a castle of air. 
Though he had built full many a one for his 
master. 

* The Earl of Clarendon had a g\'ant from King Charles 
the Second, for a piece of ground near St. James's, to build 
a house on. 



280 THE POEMS 

Already he had got all our money and cattle, 
To buy us for slaves, and purchase our lands 

"What Joseph by famine, he wrought by sea battle ; 
Nay, scarce the priest's portion could 'scape 
from his hands. 

And hence like Pharaoh that Israel pressed 
To make mortar and brick, yet allowed 'em no 
straw, 
He cared not though Egypt's ten plagues us 
distressed, 
So he could to build but make policy law. 

The Scotch forts and Dunkirk, but that they 
were sold, 
He would have demolished to raise up his 
walls ; 
Nay e'en from Tangier have sent back for the 
mould. 
But that he had nearer the stones of St. 
Paul's.* 

His woods would come in at the easier rate, 
So long as the yards had a deal or a spar : 

His friend in the navy would not be ingrate, 
To grudge him some timber, who framed him 
the war. 

* There was then a design of repairing St. Paul's, which 
was afterwards laid aside, and the stones intended for that, 
were bought by the Lord Clarendon to build his house with. 



OP MAKVELL. 281 

To proceed in the model, he called in his Aliens, 
The two Aliens when jovial, who ply him with 
gallons ; 
The two Aliens who served his blind justice for 
balance, 
The two Aliens who served his injustice for 
talons. 

They approve it thus far, and said it was fine ; 

Yet his lordship to finish it would be unable, 
Unless all abroad he divulged the design. 

For his house then would grow like a vegetable. 

His rent would no more in arrear run to Wor'ster ; 
He should dwell more noble and cheap too at 
home, 
While into a fabric the presents would muster ; 
As by hook and by crook the world clustered 
of atom. 

He liked the advice and then soon it essayed, 
And presents crowd headlong to give good 
example. 
So the bribes overlaid her that Rome once be- 
trayed ; 
The tribes ne'er contributed so to the temple. 

Straight judges, priests, bishops, true sons of the 
seal. 
Sinners, governors, farmers, bankers, patentees. 



282 THE rOEMS 

Bring in tlie whole mite of a year at a meal, 
As the Chedder club's dairy to the incorporate 
cheese. 

Bulteale's, Beak'n's,* Morley's, Wren's fingers 
with telling 
Were shrivelled, and Clutterbuck's, Eager's, 
and Kipps' ; 
Since the act of oblivion was never such selling, 
As at this benevolence out of the snips. 

'Twas then that the chimney-contractors he smoked, 
Nor would take his beloved canary in kind : 

But he swore that the patent should ne'er be 
revoked, 
No, would the whole parliament kiss him behind. 

Like Jove under ^tna o'erwhelminoj the 2:iant, 
For foundation the Bristol sunk in the earth's 
bowel ; ' 

And St. John must now for the leads be comphant. 
Or his right hand shall be cut off with a trowel. 

For surveying the building, 'twas Prat did the feat; 

But for the expense he relied on Worstenholm, 
Who sat heretofore at the king's receipt. 

But received now and paid the Chancellor's 
custom. 



* Perhaps Beachem, a jeweller mentioned by Pepys. 



OF MARVELL. 283 

By subsidies thus both cleric and laic, 

And with matter profane cemented with holy ; 

He finished at last his palace mosaic, 

By a model more excellent than Lesly's folly. 

And upon the terrace, to consummate all, 
A lantern like Faux's, surveys the burnt 
town, 
And shows on the top by the regal gilt ball, 
Where you are to expect the sceptre and 
crown. 

Fond city, its rubbish and ruins that builds, 
Like vain chemists, a flower from its ashes 
returning. 
Your metropolis house is in St. James's fields. 
And till there you remove, you shall never 
leave burning. 

This temple of war and of peace is the shrine. 
Where this idol of state sits adored and 
accursed ; 
To handsel his altar and nostrils divine, 

Great Buckingham's sacrifice naust be the 
first. 

Now some (as all builders must censure abide) 
Throw dust in its front, and blame situation : 

And others as much reprehend his back-side, 
As too narrow by far for his expatiation ; 



284 THE POEMS 

But do not consider how in process of times, 
That for namesake he may with Hyde-Park it 
enlarge, 
And with that convenience he soon, for his crimes, 
At Tyburn may land and spare the Tower- 
barge. 

Or rather how wisely his stall was built near. 
Lest with driving too far his tallow impair ; 

When like the good ox, for public good-cheer, 
He comes to be roasted next St. James's fair. 



OF MARVELL. 285 



UPON HIS HOUSE. 

Here lie the sacred bones 

Of Paul beguiled of his stones : 

Here lie golden briberies, 

The price of ruined families ; 

The cavalier's debenture wall, 

Fixed on an eccentric basis : 

Here 's Dunkirk-Town and Tangier-Hall,* 

The Queen's marriage and all, 

The Dutchman's templum pacis.if 

* Some call it Dunkirk house, intimating that it was- 
builded by his share of the price of Dunkirk. Tangier was 
part of Queen Catherine's portion, the match between whom 
and the King he was suspected to have a hand in making. 

t It was said he had money of the Dutch, to treat of a 



286 THE POEMS 



ON THE 

LORD MAYOR, AND COURT OF ALDERMEN, 

PEESEMTING THE KING AND THE DUKE OF YORK, EACH 
WITH A COPY OF HIS FREEDOM, ANNO DOM. 1674. 

A BALLAD. 



The Londoners gent 
To the King do present, 

In a box, the City maggot ; 

'Tis a thing full of weight, 
That requires all the might 

Of the whole Guild-Hail team to drag it. 



Whilst their churches unbuilt, 
And their houses undwelt. 

And their orphans want bread to feed 'em ; 
Themselves they've bereft 
Of the little wealth they 'd left, 

To make an offering of their freedom. 

III. 

ye addle-brained cits ! 
Who henceforth, in their wits, 



OF MARVELL. 287 

Would intrust their youth to your heeding ? 
When in diamonds and gold 
You have him thus enrolled ? 

Ye know both his friends and his breeding ! 

IV. 

Beyond sea he began, 

Where such a riot he ran, 
That every-one there did leave him ; 

And now he 's come o'er 

Ten times worse than before, 
When none but such fools would receive 
him. 

V. 

He ne'er knew, not he, 

How to serve or be free, 
Though he has passed through so many adven- 
tures; 

But e'er since he was bound, 

(That is, he was crowned) 
He has every day broke his indentures. 



He spends all his days 

In running to plays. 
When he ought in his shop to be poring 

And he wastes all his nights 

In his constant delights, 
Of revelling, drinking, and whoring. 



288 THE POEMS 

VII. 

Throughout Lombard-street, 

Each man he did meet, 
He would run on the score with and borrow ; 

When they asked for their own. 

He was broke and was gone, 
And his creditors all left to sorrow. 

VIII. 

Though oft bound to the peace, 

Yet he never would cease 
To vex his poor neighbours with quarrels ; 

And when he was beat, 

He still made his retreat 
To his Glevelands, his Nells, and his Carwells. 

IX. 

Naj, his company lewd 

Were twice grown so rude. 
That had not fear taught him sobriety. 

And the house being well barred, 

With guard upon guard, 
They 'd robbed us of all our propriety. 

X. 

Such a plot was laid. 
Had not Ashley betrayed. 
As had cancelled all former disasters ; 

And your wives had been strumpets 
To his highness's trumpets, 



OF MARVELL. 289 

And footboys had all been your masters. 

XI. 

So many are the debts, 

And the bastards he gets, 
Which must all be defrayed by London ; 

That notwithstanding the care 

Of Sir Thomas Player, 
The chamber must needs be undone. 

XII. 

His words or his oath 

Cannot bind him to troth. 
And he values not credit or history ; 

And though he has served through 

Two 'prenticeships now, 
He knows not his trade nor his mystery. 

XIII. 

Then, London, rejoice 

In thy fortunate choice, 
To have him made free of thy spices ; 

And do not mistrust. 

He may once grow more just, 
When he 's worn off his follies and vices. 

XIV. 

And what little thing 
Is that which you bring 
To the Duke, the kingdom's darling ? 
19 



290 THE POEMS 

Ye hug it, and draw 
Like ants at a straw, 
Though too small for the gristle of sterling, 

XV. 

It is a box of pills 

To cure the Duke's ills ? 
He is too far gone to begin it ! 

Or does your fine show 

In processioning go, 
"With the pyx and the host within it ? 

XVI. 

The very first head 

Of the oath you him read, 

Show you all how fit he 's to govern. 

When in heart, you all knew, 
He ne'er was, nor '11 be, true 

To his country or to his sovereign. 

XVII. 

And who, pray, could swear, 

That he would forbear 
To cull out the good of an alien. 

Who still doth advance 

The government of France 
With a wife and religion Italian ? 

XVIII. 

And now, worshipful sirs, 
Go fold up your furs, 



OF MARVELL. 291 



And Viners turn again, turn again ; 
I see (whoe'er 's freed,) 
. You for slaves are decreed, 
Until you burn again, burn again. 



292 THE POEMS 



ON BLOOD'S STEALING THE CROWN. 

When daring Blood, his rent to have regained, 

Upon the Enghsh diadem distrained, 

He chose the cassock, surcingle, and gown, 

The fittest mask for one that robs the crown : 

But his lay-pity underneath prevailed, 

And whilst he saved the keeper's life he failed ; 

With the priest's vestment had he but put on 

The prelate's cruelty, the crown had gone. 



OF MARVELL. 293 



NOSTRADMUS' PROPHECY. 

For faults and follies London's doom shall fix ; 
And she must sink in flames in sixty -six. 
Fire-balls shall fly, but few shall see the train, 
As far as from Whitehall to Pudding-Lane, 
To burn the city, which again shall rise. 
Beyond all hopes, aspiring to the skies, 
Where vengeance dwells. But there is one 

thing more, 
Though its walls stand, shall bring the city lower : 
When legislators shall their trust betray. 
Saving their own, shall give the rest away ; 
And those false men, by the easy people sent. 
Give taxes to the king by parliament ; 
When barefaced villains shall not blush to cheat. 
And chequer-doors shall shut up Lombard-street ; * 

* In the year 1672, the court resolving on a war, looked 
out f^.r money to carry it on. The method they took to get 
it was this: The King had agreed with some bankers, with 
whom he had contracted a debt of near a million and a half, 
to assign over the revenue to them ; and he paid them at the 
rate of eight per cent, and in some proclamations promised 



294 THE POEMS 

When players come to act the part of queens, 
Within the curtains, and behind the scenes ; * 
When sodomy shall be prime minister's sport, 
And whoring shall be the least crime at court ; 
When boys shall take their sisters for their 

mate, 
And practise incest between seven and eight ; 
When no man knows in whom to put his trust, 
And e'en to rob the chequer shall be just ; 
When declarations, lies, and every oath. 
Shall be in use at court, but faith and troth ; 
When two good kings shall be at Brentford 

town, 
And when in London there shall not be one ; 
When the seat 's given to a talking fool, 
Whom wise men laugh at, and whom womei\rule, 
A minister able only in his tongue, 
To make harsh empty speeches two hours long ; 
When an old Scotch covenanter shall be 
The champion for the English hierarchy ; f 
When bishops shall lay all religion by, 
And strive by law to establish tyranny ; 

he would make good all his assignments, till the whole debt 
was paid; but, in order for a supply, the payments were 
stopped for a year. This was a great shock to the bankers ; 
for many of the nobility and gentry, who were in the secret, 
took their money, before the design was publicly known, out 
of the hands of their bankers. 

* Eeflecting on the King for taking Mrs. Gwyn from the 
stage. 

t Lauderdale, who was at first a noted Dissenter. 



OF MARVELL. 295 

When a lean treasurer shall in one year 
Make himself fat, his king and people bare ; 
When the English prince shall Englishmen 

despise, 
And think French only loyal, Irish wise ; 
When wooden shoon shall be the English wear, 
And Magna Charta shall no more appear ; — 

Then the English shall a greater tyrant know, 
Than either Greek or Latin story show ; 
Their wives to 's lust exposed, their wealth to 's 

spoil, 
With groans, to fill his treasury, they toil ; 
But like the Belides must sigh in vain, 
For that still filled flows out as fast again ; 
Then they with envious eyes shall Belgium see, 
And wish in vain Venetian liberty. 

The frogs too late, grown weary of their pain, 
Shall pray to Jove to take him back again. 



29G THE POEMS 



ROYAL RESOLUTIONS. 

I. 

When plate was at pawn, and fob at an ebb, 

And spider might weave in bowels its web, 

And stomach as emptj as brain ; 

Then Charles without acre, 

Did swear bj his Maker, 

If e'er I see England again, 

I '11 have a religion all of mj own. 

Whether Popish or Protestant shall not be 

known ; 
And if it prove troublesome, I will have none. 

II. 
I '11 have a long parliament always to friend. 
And furnish my treasure as fast as I spend. 
And if they will not, they shall have an end. 

III. 
I '11 have a council shall sit always still, 
And give me a license to do what I will ; 
And two secretaries shall piss through a quill. 



OF MARYELL. 297 



IV. 

My insolent brother shall bear all the sway ;: 
If parliaments murmur, I '11 send him away, 
And call him again as soon as I may. 

V. 

I '11 have a rare son, in marrying though marred, 
Shall govern (if not my kingdom) my guard, 
And shall be successor to me or Gerard. 

VI. 

I '11 have a new London instead of the old. 
With wide streets and uniform to my old mould ; 
But if they build too fast, I '11 bid 'em hold. 

YII. 

The ancient nobility I will lay by, 

And new ones create their rooms to supply. 

And they shall raise fortunes for my own fry. 

VIII. 

Some one I '11 advance from a common descent, 
So high that he shall hector the parliament. 
And all wholesome laws for the public prevent, 

IX. 

And I will assert him to such a degree 

That all his foul treasons, though daring and high, 

Under my hand and seal shall have indemnity. 



298 THE POEMS 



X. 

And, wliate'er it cost me, I'll have a French 

whore, 
As bold as Alice Pierce, and as fair as Jane 

Shore ; , 

And when I am weary of her, I '11 have more. 

XI. 

Which if any bold commoner dare to oppose, 
I '11 order my bravos to cut off his nose,* 
Though for 't I a branch of prerogative lose. 

XII. 

My pimp shall be my minister premier. 
My bawds call ambassadors far and near. 
And my wench shall dispose of Conge d'Elire. 

XIII. 

I '11 wholly abandon all public affairs. 

And pass all my time with buffoons and players, 

And saunter to Nelly when I should be at prayers. 

XIV. 

I '11 have a fine pond with a pretty decoy, 
Where many strange fowl shall feed and enjoy, 
And still in their language quack Vive le Roy! 

* Alluding to the barbarity acted on Sir John Coventry. 



OF MARVELL. 299 



A HISTOKICAL POEM. 

Of a tall stature, and of sable hue, 
Much like the son of Kish, that lofty Jew, 
Twelve years complete he suffered in exile, 
And kept his father's asses all the while ; 
At length, by wonderful impulse of fate, 
The people call him home to help the state, 
And, what is more, they send him money too, ^ 
And clothe him all, from head to foot, anew. 
Nor did he such small favours then disdain. 
Who in his thirteenth year began his reign : 
In a slashed doublet then he came ashore. 
And dubbed poor Palmer's* wife his royal whore. 
Bishops, and deans, peers, pimps, and knights, he 

made ; 
Things highly fitting for a monarch's trade I 
With women, wine, and viands of delight, 
His jolly vassals feast him day and night. 



* Mrs. Palmer, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, whom 
the king took from her husband. 



300 THE POEMS 

But the best times have ever some allay, 
His* younger brother died by treachery. 
Bold James survives, no dangers make him 

flinch, 

He marries signer Fal -h's pregnant wench. 

The pious mother queen, hearing her son 
"Was thus enamoured with a buttered bun, 
And that the fleet was gone, in pomp and state, 
To fetch, for Charles, the flowery Lisbon Kate, 
She chants Te Deum, and so comes away. 
To wish her hopeful issue timely joy. 
Her most uxorious mate she ruled of old. 
Why not with easy youngsters make as bold ? 
From the French court she haughty topics 

brings. 
Deludes their pliant nature with vain things ; 
Her mischief-breeding breast did so prevail. 
The new-got Flemish town was set to sale ; 
For these, and Germain's sins, she founds a 

church, 
So slips away, and leaves us in the lurch. 
Now the court-sins did every place defile. 
And plagues and war fall heavy on the isle ; 
Pride nourished folly, folly a delight. 
With the Batavian commonwealth to fight. 
But the Dutch fleet fled suddenly with fear, 
Death and the duke so dreadful did appear. 



* The Duke of Gloucester, third brother to the king. He 
was much more loved than the Duke of York. 



OF MARVELL. 301 

The dreadful victor took his soft repose, 
Scorning pursuit of such mechanic foes. 

But now York's genitals grew over hot, 
With Denham's and Carnegie's infected plot, 
"Which, with religion so inflamed his ire. 
He left the city when 'twas set on fire. 
So Philip's son, inflamed with a miss. 
Burned down the palace of Persepolis. 
Toiled thus by Venus, he Bellona woos, 
And with the Dutch a second war renews ; 
But here his French-bred prowess proved in vain, 
De Ruyter claps him in Solebay again. 

This isle was well reformed, and gained renown, 
Whilst the brave Tudors wore the imperial 

crown : 
But since the royal race of Stuarts came. 
It was recoiled to popery and shame ; 
Misguided monarchs, rarely wise and just. 
Tainted with pride, and with impetuous lust. 

Should we the Blackheath project here -s 
relate, I 

Or count the various blemishes of state, • 

My muse would on the reader's patience grate. ^ 
The poor Priapus king, led by the nose. 
Looks as a thing set up to scare the crows ; 
Yet, in the mimics of the spinstrian sport, 
Outdoes Tiberius, and his goatish court. 



302 THE POEMS 

In* love's delights none did them e'er excel, 
Not Tereus with his sister Philomel; 
As they at Athens, we at Dover meet, 
And gentlier far the Orleans duchess treat. 
What sad event attended on the same. 
"We '11 leave to the report of common fame. 
The senate, which should headstrong princes 

stay, 
Let loose the reins, and gave the realm away ; 
With lavish hands they constant tributes give. 
And annual stipends for their guilt receive ; 
Corrupt with gold, they wives and daughters 

bring 
To the black idol for an offering. 
All but religious cheats might justly swear, 
He true vicegerent to old Moloch were. 

Priests were the first deluders of mankind, 
Who with vain faith made all their reason blind ; 
Not Lucifer himself more proud than they, 
And yet persuade the world they must obey ; 
Of avarice and luxury complain. 
And practise all the vices they arraign. 



* The king's sister, the Duchess of Orleans, was a woman 
of great intrigue. In the year 1671, she and her brother met 
at Dover. When she returned into France, the Duke of 
Orleans, who had received very strange accounts of her 
behaviour in England, ordered a great dose of sublimate to 
be given her in a glass of succory v;ater, of which she died 
in great torment. 



OP MARVELL. 303 

Riches and honour they from laymen reap 
And with dull crambo feed the silly sheep. 
As Killigrew buffoons his master, they 
Droll on their god, but a much duller way. 
With hocus-pocus, and their heavenly fight. 
They gain on tender consciences at night. 
Whoever has an over-zealous wife, 
Becomes the priest's Amphitryo during life. 
Who would such men heaven's messengers 

believe. 
Who from the sacred pulpit dare deceive ? 
Baal's wretched curates legerdemained it so, 
And never durst their tricks above-board show. 

When our first parents Paradise did grace, 
The serpent was the prelate of the place ; 
Fond Eve did, for this subtle tempter's sake. 
From the forbidden tree the pippin take ; 
His God and Lord this preacher did betray. 
To have the weaker vessel made his prey. 
Since death and sin did human nature blot, 
The chiefest blessings Adam's chaplain got. 

Thrice wretched they, who nature's laws detest, 
To trace the ways fantastic of a priest. 
Till native reason 's basely forced to yield, 
And hosts of upstart errors gain the field. 

My muse presumed a little to digress, 
And touch their holy function with my verse. 



304 THE POEMS 

Now to the stage again she tends direct, 
And does on giant Lauderdale reflect. 
This haughty monster, with his ugly claws, 
First tempered poison to destroy our laws ; 
Declares the council's edicts are beyond 
The most authentic statutes of the land ; 
Sets up in Scotland a la mode de France ; 
Taxes, excise, and armies does advance. 
This Saracen his country's freedom broke, 
To bring upon their necks the heavier yoke ; 
This is the savage pimp, without dispute. 
First brought his mother for a prostitute ; 
Of all the miscreants e'er went to hell. 
This villain rampant bears away the bell. 

Now must my muse deplore the nation's fate, 
Like a true lover for her dying mate. 
The royal evil so malignant grows. 
Nothing the dire contagion can oppose. 
In our weal-public scarce one thing succeeds. 
For one man's weakness a whole nation bleeds 
Ill-luck starts up, and thrives like evil weeds. 
Let Cromwell's ghost smile with contempt, to see 
Old England strugghng under slavery. 

His meagre highness, now he 's got astride, 
Does on Britannia, as on Churchill, ride. 

White-livered D calls for his swift jackal 

To hunt down 's prey, and hopes to master all. 



OF MARVELL. 305 

Clifford and Hyde before had lost the day ; 
One hanged himself, and t'other ran away. 
'Twas want of wit and courage made them fail, 
But C n, and the duke, must needs 

prevail. 
The duke now vaunts with Popish myrmidons ; 
Our fleets, our ports, our cities and our towns. 
Are manned by him, or by his Holiness ; 
Bold Irish ruffians to his court address. 
This is the colony to plant his knaves, 
From hence he picks and culls his murdering 

braves. 
Here for an ensign, or lieutenant's place. 
They '11 kill a judge or justice of the peace. 
At his command Mac will do any thing : 
He '11 burn a city, or destroy a king. 
From Tiber came the advice-boat monthly home, 
And brought new^ lessons to the duke from Rome. 
Here with cursed precepts, and with counsels dire. 
The godly cheat-king (would be) did inspire ; 
Heaven had him chieftain of Great Britain made, 
Tells him the holy church demands his aid ; 
Bade him be bold, all dangers to defy, 
His brother, sneaking heretic, should die ; 
A priest should do it, from whose sacred stroke 
All England straight should foil beneath his yoke ; 
God did renounce him, and his cause disown. 
And in his stead had placed him on his throne. 
From Saul the land of promise thus was rent, 
And Jesse's son placed in the government. 
20 



306 THE POEMS OF MARVELL. 

The Holj Scripture vindicates his cause, 
And monarchs are above all human laws. 

Thus said the Scarlet Whore to her gallant, 
Who straight designed his brother to supplant : 
Fiends of ambition here his soul possessed, 
And thirst of empire calentured li^ breast. 

Hence ruin and destruction had ensued. 
And all the people been in blood imbrued, 
Had not Almighty Providence drawn near. 
And stopped his malice in his full career. 

Be wise, ye sons of men, tempt God no more 
To give you kings in 's wrath to vex you sore : 
If a king's brother can such mischiefs bring. 
Then how much greater mischiefs such a king ? 



CARMINA MISCELLANEA 



C A R M I N A MISCELLANEA. 



ROS. 

Cernis, ut Eoi descendat gemmula roris, 

Inque rosas roseo transfluat orta sinu. 
Sollicita flores stant ambitione supini, 

Et certant foliis pellicuisse suis. 
Ilia taraen patriae lustrans fastigia sphcerse, 

Negligit hospitii limina picta novi, 
Inque sui nitido conclusa voluminis orbe, 

Exprimit aetherei, qua licet, orbis aquas. 
En, ut odoratum spernat generosior ostrura, 

Vixque premat casto mollia strata pede ; 
Suspicit at longis distantem obtutibus axem, 

Inde et languenti lumine pendet amans, 
Tristis, etin liquidum mutata dolore dolorem, 

Marcet, uti roseis lachrjma fusa genis. 
Ut pavet, et motum tremit irrequieta cubile, 

Et, quoties zephyri fiuctuat aura, fugit ! 
Qualis inexpertam subeat formido puellam, 

Sicubi nocte redit incomitata domum, 
Sic et in horridulas agitatur gutta procellas, 

Dum pro virgineo cuncta pudore timet ; 



310 THE POEMS 

Donee oberrantem radio clemente vaporet, 

In que jubar reducem sol genitale trahat. 
Talis, in humane si possit flore videri, 

Exul ubi longas mens agit usque moras ; 
Ha2c quoque natalis meditans con vi via coeli, 

Evertit calices, purpureosque toros ; 
Fontis stilla sacri, lucis scintilla perennis, 

Non capitur Tjria veste, vapore Saba3 ; 
Tola sed in proprii secedens luminis arcem, 

Colligit in gyros se sinuosa breves ; 
Magnorumque sequens animo convexa deorum, 

Sidereum parvo fingit in orbe globum. 
Quam bene in aversee modulum contracta figurse 

Oppositum mundo claudit ubique latus ; 
Sed bibit in speculum radios ornata rotundum, 

Et circumfuso splendet aperta die. 
Qua superos spectat rutilans, obscurior infra, 

Csetera dedignans, ardet amore poll. 
Subsilit, hinc agili poscens discedere motu, 

Undique coelesti cincta soluta yise. 
Totaque in aereos extenditur orbita cursus ; 

Hinc punctim carpens, mobile stringet iter. 
Haud aliter mensis exundans manna beatis 

Deserto jacuit stilla gelata solo ; 
Stilla gelata s-olo, sed solibus hausta benignis, 

Ad sua, qua cecidit, purior astra redit. 



OF MARYELL. 



311 



HOKTUfe. 

QuiSNAM adeo, mortale genus ! prtecorclia versat ? 
Heu palmse, laurique furor, vel simplicis herbae ! 
Arbor ut indomitos ornet vix una labores, 
Tempora nee foliis praecingat tota malignis ; 
Dum simul implexi, tranquillae ad serta quietis, 
Oninigeni coeunt flores, integraque sylva. 

Alma Quies, teneo te ! et te, germana Quietis, 
Simplicitas ! vos ergo diu per templa, per urbes, 
Quaesivi, regum perque alta palatia, frustra : 
Sed vos hortorum per opaca silentia, longe 
Celarunt plantse virides, et concolor umbra. 

O ! mihi si vestros liceat violasse recessus, 
Erranti, lasso, et vitse melioris anhelo, 
Municipem servate novum ; votoque potitum, 
Frondosse cives optate in florea regna. 

Me quoque, vos Musae, et te, console, tester, 
Apollo, 
Non armeuta juvant hominum, Circive boatus, 



312 THE POEMS 

Mngltusve Fori : sed me penetralia Veris, 
Honoresque trahunt muti, et consortia sola. 

Virgineae quern non suspendit gratia formae ? 
Quam, candore nives vincentem, ostrumque 

rubore, 
Vestra tamen viridis superet (me judice) virtus ? 
Nee foliis certare comae, nee brachia ramis, 
Nee possint tremulos voces Eequare susurros. 

Ah ! quoties saevos vidi (quis credat ?) araantes, 
Sculpentes dominae potiori in cortice nomen ! 
Nee puduit truncis inscribere vulnera sacris. 
Ast ego, si vestras unquam temeravero stirpes. 
Nulla Neaera, Chloe, Faustina, Corynna, legetur ; 
In proprio sed quaeque libro signabitur arbos. 
charas Platanus, Cjparissus, Populus, Ulmus ! 

Hie Amor, exutis, crepidatus inambulat, alis, 
Enerves arcus, et stridula tela reponens, 
Invertitque faces, nee se eupit usque timeri ; 
Aut exporrectus jacet, indormitque pharetrse ; 
Non auditurus, quanquam Cytherea vocarit. 
Nequitias referunt, nee somnia vana, priores. 

Laetantur Superi, defervescente tyranno, 
Et licet experti toties Nympbasque Deasque, 
Arbore nunc melius potiuntur quisque cupita. 
Jupitur annosam, neglecta conjuge, quercum 
Deperit ; baud alia doluit sic pellice Juno. 



OF MARVELL. 313 

Leraniacum temerant vestigia nulla cubile, 
Nee Veneris Mavor^ meminit, si Fraxinus absit. 
Formosae pressit Daphnes vestigia Phoebus 
Ut fieret laurus ; sed nil quassiverat ultra. 
Capripes et peteret quod Pan Syringa fugacem, 
Hoc erat, ut calamum posset reperire sonorum. 



Nee tu, opifex horti, grato sine carmine abibis ; 
Qui brevibus plantis, et l«to flore, notasti 
Crescentes horas, atque intervalla diei. 
Sol ibi candidior fragrantia signa pererrat ; 
Proque truci Tauro, stricto pro forcipe Cancri, 
Securis violoeque rosaeque allabitur umbris. 
Sedula quin et apis, mellito intenta labori, 
Horologo, sua pensa thymo, signare videtur. 
Teraporis suaves lapsus ! otia sana ! 
herbis dignae numerari, et floribus, horas ! 



314 THE POEMS 



DIGNISSIMO SUO AMICO DOCTOR! WITTY. 

DE TKANSLATIOMB VULGI EKROKUM D. PRIMROSII. 

Nempe sic innumero succrescunt agmine libri, 

Sej^ia vix toto ut jam natet una mari. 
Fortius assidui swgunt a vulnere preli ; 

Quoque magis pressa est, auctior hydra redit. 
Heu ! quibus anticyris, quibus est sanabilis herbis, 

Improba scribendi pestis, avarus amor ! 
India sola tenet tanti medicamina morbi, 

Dicitur et nostris ingemuisse malis. 
Utile tabacci dedit ilia miserta venenum, 

Acri veratro quod meliora potest. 
Jamque vides olidas libris fumare popinas, 

Naribus doctis quam pretiosus odor ! 
Hac ego praecipua credo herbam dote placere, 

Hinc tuus has nebulas doctor in astra vehit. 
Ah ! mea quid tandem facies timidissima charta ? 

Exeq<|ias siticen jam parat usque tuas. 
Hunc subeas librum sancti seu limen asyli, 

Quem neque delebit flamma, nee ira Jovis. 



OF MARVELL. 315. 



IN EUNUCHAM POETAJVI. 

Nec sterilem te crede, licet, mulieribus exul, 
Falcem virginefe nequeas immittere messi, 
Et nostro peccare modo. Tibi fama perenne 
Proegnabit ; rapiesque no vera de monte sorores ; 
Et pariet modulos echo repetita nepotes. 



516 THE POEMS 



IN^ LEGATIOXEIvr DOMINI OLIVERI ST. 
JOHN, AD PRO^aNCIAS FOEDERATAS. 

Ingexiosa viris contingunt nomina magnis, 

Ut dubites casu vel ratione data. 
Nam sors, caeca licet, tamen est praesaga futuri ; 

Et sub fatidico nomine vera premit. 
Et tu, cui soli voluit respublica credi, 

Foedera seu Belgis seu nova bella feras ; 
Haud frustra cecidit tibi compellatio fallax, 

Ast scriptum ancipiti nomine munus erat ; 
Scilicet hoc Martis, sed Pacis, nuntius, illo : 

Clavibus his Jani ferrea claustra regis. 
Non opus arcanos chartis committere sensus, 

Et varia licitos condere fraude dolos. 
Tu quoque si taceas, tamen est Legatio nomen, 

Et velut in scytale publica verba refert. 
Vultis Oliverum, Batavi, Sanctumve Johannem ? 

Antiochus gyro non breviore stetit. 



OF MARVELL. 317 



DOCTORI IXGELO, 

CUM DOMINO WHITLOCKE AD REGINAM SUECIiE 
DELEGATO A PROTECTORE, RESIDENTI, EPISTOLA. 

Quid facis, arctoi cliarissime transfuga c<eli, 

Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte cito ? 
Num satis hybernum defendis pellibus astrum, 

Qui inodo tarn mollis, nee bene firmus, eras ? 
Qua3 gentes hominum, qua3 sit natura locorum, 

Sint homines, potius die ibi sintne loca ? 
Num gravis horrisono polus obruit omnia lapsu, 

Jungitur et prteceps mundus utraque nive ? 
An melius canis borrescit campus aristis, 

Ann u us agricolis et redit orbe labor ? 
Incolit, ut fertur, sfevam gens mitior oram, 

Pace vigil, bello strenua, justa foro. 
Quin ibi sunt urbes, atque alta palatia regum, 

Musarumque domus, et sua templa Deo. 
Nam regit imperio populum Christina ferocem, 

Et dare jura potest regia virgo viris. 



318 THE POEMS 

Utque trahit rigidum Magnes aquilone metallum, 

Gaudet earn soboles ferrea sponte sequi. 
Die quantum liceat fallaci credere famae, 

Invida num taceat plura, sonetve loquax. 
At, si vera fides, mundi melioris ab ortu, 

Saecula Christinae nulla tulere parera ; 
Ipsa licet redeat (nostri decus orbis) Eliza, 

Qualis nostra tamen quaiitaque Eliza fuit. 
Vidimus efiigiem, mistasque coloribus umbras : 

Sic quoque Sceptripotens, sic quoque visa Dea. 
Augustam decorant (raro concordia !) frontem 

Majestas et Amor, Forma, Pudorque simul. 
Ingens virgineo spirat Gustavus in ore : 

Agnoscas animos, fulmineumque patrem. 
Nulla suo nituit tam lucida Stella sub axe : 

Non ea quae meruit crimine Nympha polum. 
Ab ! quoties pavidum demisit conscia lumen, 

Utque suae timuit Parrhasius ora Deae ? 
Et, simulet falsa ni pictor imagine vultus, 

Delia tam similis nee fuit ipsa sibi. 
Ni quod inornati Trivia? sint forte eapilli, 

Huic sed sollicita distribuantur acu. 
Scilicet ut nemo est ilia reverentior aequi ; 

Haud ipsas igitur fert sine lege comas. 
Gloria sjlvarum pariter communis utrique 

Est, et perpetuae virginitatis honos. 
Sic quoque Nym^barum supereminet agminacollo, 

Fertque chores Cynthia per juga, perque nives. 
Haud alitur pariles ciliorum eontrahit arcus, 

Acribus ast oculis tela subesse putes. 



OF MARVELL. 319 

Luminibus diibites an straverit ilia saglttis, 

Qua3 fovet exuviis ardua colla, feram. 
Alcides, humeros coopertus pelle Nemcea, 

Hand ita labentis sustulit orbis onus. 
Heu qua3 cervices subnectunt pe€tora tales, 

Frigidiora gelu, candidiora nive ? 
Ca3tera non licuit, sed vix ea tota, videri ; 

Nam clausi rigido slant adamante sinus. 
Seu cblamys artifici nimiura succurrerit auso, 

Sicque imperfectum fugerit impar opus ; 
Sive tribus spernat victrix certare Deabus, 

Et pretium forma?, nee spoiliata, ferat. 
Junonis properans, et clara trophoea, Minervas, 

Mollia nam Veneris prajmia nosse piget. 
Hinc neque consuluit fugitivas prodiga formre. 

Nee timuit feris invigilasse labris. 
Insomnem quoties Nymphoe monuere sequaces, 

Decedit roseis heu color ille genis. 
Jamque vigil leni cessit Philomela sopori, 

Omnibus et sylvis conticuere ferae : 
Acrior ilia tamen pergit, curasque fatigat ; 

Tanti est doctorum volvere scripta virum ; 
Et liciti qua? sint moderamina discere regni, 

Quid fuerit, quid sit, noscere, quicquid erit. 
Sic quod in^ingenuas Gothus peccaverit artes 

Vindicat, et studiis expiat una suis. 
Exemplum dociles imitantur nobile gentes, 

Et geminis infans imbuit ora sonis. 
Transpositos Suecis credas migrasse Latinos, 

Carmine Romuleo sic strepit omne nemus- 



320 THE POEMS 

Upsala nee priscis impar memoratur Athenis, 

-<Egidaque et currus hie sua Pallas babet. 
mine quales lieeat sperasse liquores, 

Quum Dea praesideat fontibus ipsa saeris ! 
Illie lacte fluant, illie et flumina melle, 

Fulvaque inauratam tingat arena* Salam. 
Upsalides Musce nune et majora eanemus, 

Quaeque mihi famae non levis aura tulit. 
Creditur baud ulli Cbristus signasse suorum 

Oecultam gemma de meliore notam. 
Quemque tenet ebaro deseriptum nomine semper, 

Non minus exculptum peetore fido refert. 
Sola baee virgineas depaseit flamma medullas, 

Et licito pergit solvere corda foco. 
Tu quoque Sanetorum fastos, Cbristina, sacrabis, 

Unica nee virgo Volsiniensis erit. 
Diseite nunc Reges (raajestas proxiraa ccelo) 

Discite, proh, magnos bine eoluisse Deos. 
Ah ! pudeat tantos puerilia fingere eoepta, 

Nugas neseio quas, et male quaerere opes ; 
Aeer equo eunctos dum prseterit ille Britanno, 

Et peeoris spolium nescit inerme sequi ; 
Ast aquilam poseit Germano pellere nido, 

Deque Palatino monte fugare lupam ; 
Vos etiam latos in praedam jungite campos, 

Impiaque arctatis cingite lustra plagis : 
Vietor Oliverus nudum caput exerit armis, 

Ducere sive sequi nobile loetus iter ; 

* Issel, vulgo dicta. 



OF MARVELL. 321 

Qualis jam senior SolymaB Godfrediis ad arces,. 

Spinaque cui canis floruit alba coinis. 
Et Lappos Christina potest et solvere Finnos, 

Ultima quos Boreae carcere claustra premunt ;: 
-Mollis quales venti fremuere sub antris, 

Et tentant mentis corripuisse moras. 
Hanc Dea si summa demiserit arce procellam, 

Quam gravis Austriacis Hesperiisque cadat ? 
Omnia sed rediens olim narraveris ipse ; 

jS"ec reditus spero tempora longa petit. 
Non ibi lenta pigro stringuntur frigore verba, 

Solibus et tandem vere liquanda novo; ■ 
Sed radiis liyemem Regina potentior urit ; 

Hagcque magis solvit, quam ligat ilia polum. 
Dicitur et nostros moerens audisse labores, 

Fortis et ingenuam gentis amasse fidem. 
OblatJB Batava nee paci commodat aurem ; 

Nee versat Danaos insidiosa doles. 
Sed pia festinat mutatis foedera rebus, 

Et libertatem, quse dominatur, amat. 
Digna cui Salomon meritos retulisset honores, 

Et Saba concretum thure cremasset iter. 
Hanc tua, sed melius, celebraverit, Ingele, Musa ; 

Et labor est vestrae debitus ille Ijraj. 
Nos sine te frustra Tbamesis saliceta subimus, 

Sparsaque per steriles turba vagamur agros. 
Et male tentanti querulam respondet avena : 

Quin et Rogerio dissiluere fides. 
Hsec tamen absenti memores dictamus amico, 

Grataque speramus qualiacumque fore. 
21 



322 THE POEMS 



IX EFFIGIEM OLIYERI CROMWELL. 

H^C est quae toties inimicos umbra fugavit, 
At sub qua cives otia lenta terunt. 



IX EANDEM REGIX^ SUECL^: TRANS- 
INnSSAiSL 

Bellipotens virgo, septem Regina Trionum, 

Christina, arctoi lucida Stella poli ; 
Cernis quas merui dura sub easside rugas ; 

Sicque senex armis impiger ora fero ; 
Invia fatorum dum pur vestigia nitor, 

Exsequor et populi fortia jussa inanu, 
At tibi submittit frontem reverentior umbra, 

Nee sunt hi vultus regibus usque truces. 



OF 3IARYELL. 323 



AD REGEM CAROLUM, DE SOBOLE, 1637. 

I. 

Jam satis pestis, satis atque diri 
Fulminis misit Pater, et rubenti 
Dextera nostras jaculatus arces 

Terruit urbem. 

II. 

Terruit cives, grave ne rediret 
Pristinum seclum nova monstra questum, 
Omne cum pestis pecus egit altos 

Visere montes. 

III. 
Cum scholie latis genus hresit agris, 
Nota qua? sedes fuerat bubulcis ; 
Cum, toga abjecta, pavidus reliquit 

Oppida doctus. 

IV. 

Vidimus Cliamum fluvium, retortis 
Littore a dextro violenter undis, 
Ire plorantem monumenta pestis, 

Templaque clausa. 



324 THE POEMS 



V. 

Granta dum semet nimium querent! 
Miscet uxori, vagus et sinistra. 
Labitur ripa, Jove comprobante, 

Tristior amnis. 

VI. 

Audiit coelos acuisse ferrum, 

Quo graves Turcas melius perirent ; 

Audiit mortes, vitio parentum, 

Eara juventus. 

VII. 

Quern vocet Divum populus mentis 
Imperi rebus ? Prece qua fatigent 
Doctior coetus minus audientes 

Carmina coelos ? 



Cui dabit partes luis expiandae 
Jupiter ? Tandem venias, precamur, 
Nube candentes humeros amictus, 

Auxiliator. 

IX. 

Sive tu mavis, Erjcina nostra, 
Quam Jocus clrcumvolat et Cupido, 
Tuque neglectum genus et nepotes 

Auxeris ipsa ; 



OF MARVELL. 325 



X. 



Sola tarn longam removere pestem, 
Quam juvat luctus, faciesque trisds, 
Proles, optata reparare, mole, 

Sola potesque. 

XI. 

Sive felici Carolum figura 
Parvulus princeps imitetur, almae 
Sive Marias decoret puellam 



Dulcis imago. 



XII. 

Serus in coelum redeas, diuque 
Leetus intersis populo Britaniio ; 
Neve te, nostris vitiis iniquum, 

Ocior aura 

XIII. 

Tollat. Hie magnos potius triumphos, 
Hie ames dici pater atque princeps, 
Et nova mortes reparare prole, 

Te patre, Caesar. 



326 THE POEMS 



CUIDAM, QUI, LEGENDO SCRIPTURAM, 

DESCRIPSIT FOEMAM, SAPIEIXTIAM SORTEMQUE 
AUTHOKIS. 

ILLUTBISSLMO XIRO 

DOMINO LANCELOTO JOSEPHO DE MA^^IBAN, 

GRAMMATOMANTI. 

Quis posthac cliartae committat sensa loquaci, 

Si sua crediderit fata subesse stjlo ? 
Conscia si prodat scribentis litera sortem, 

Quicquid et in vita plus latuisse relit ? 
Flexibus in calami tamen omnia sponte le- 
guntur : 

Quod non significant verba, figura notat. 
Bellerophonteas signat sibi quisque tabellas ; 

Ignaramque manum spiritus intas agit. 
Nil praiter solitum sapiebat epistola nostra, 

Exemplumque meae simplicitatis erat : 
Fabula jueundos qualis delectat ami cos ; 

Urbe, lepore, novis, carmine, tota scatens. 



OF MARVELL. 327 

Hie tamen iriterpres, quo non securior alter. 

(Non res, non voces, non ego notus ei.) 
Rimatur fibras notularum cautus aruspex, 

Scripturaeque inhians consulit exta meie. 
Inde statim vitae casus, animique recessus, 

Explicat (baud Genio plura liquere putem.) 
Distribuit totura nostris eventibus orbem, 

Et quo me rapiat cardine sph^ra docet. 
QuaB Sol oppositus, quae Mars adversa minetur, 

Jupiter aut ubi me, Luna, Yenusve, juvet. 
Ut trucis intentet mibi vulnera Cauda Draconis ; 

Vipereo levet ut vulnere more caput. 
Hinc mibi praeteriti rationes at que futuri 

Elicit ; Astrologus certior Astronomo. 
Ut conjecturas nequeam discernere vero, 

Historias superet sed genitura fidem. 
Usque adeo coeli respondet pagina nostra, 

Astrorum et nexus syllaba scripta refert. 
Scilicet et toto subsunt oracula mundo, 

Dummodo tot foliis una Sibylla foret. 
Partum, fortuniB mater natura, propinquum 

Mille modis monstrat, mille per indicia ; 
Ingentemque uterum qua mole puerpera solvat ; 

Yivit at in prjesens maxima pars hominum. 
Ast tu, sorte tua, gaude, celeberrime vatum : 

Scribe, sed baud superest qui tua fata legat. 
iN^ostra tamen si fas praesagia jungere vestris, 

Quo magis inspexti sydera spernis bumum. 
Et, nisi stellarum fueris divina propago, 

Naupliada credam te Palamede satum ; 



328 THE POE3I3 

Qui dedit ex avium scriptoria .signa volatu, 
Sjdereaque idem nobilis arte f'uit. 

Hinc utri usque tibi cognata scientia crevit, 
Nee minus augurium litera, quam, dat, avis. 



or MAKVELL. o"2i) 



IN DUOS MONTES. .UIOSCLIVIUM ET BIL- 
BOREUM. 

FAKFACIO. 

Cersis ut ingenti distingumit limile e;uiipuiu 

Montis Amosolivi Bilboreique jug:i ! 
lUe Stat indomitus turritis undique s;\xis ; 

lluic hvtum oingit traxinus aha caput, 
llli potra miuax rigidis oorvioibus horivt ; 

lluio quatiiint virides leuia ix^Ua jubtis. 
Fuloit Atlanteo rupes ea vertiee ccelos ; 

Collis at hie humeros subjioit Ilerculeos. 
Hie, eou caiveribus, visum sylvaquo coeroot : 

llle ooulos :Utor dum, quasi metji, traliit. 
llle gig:uitoun\ surgit eeu PeHou Ossi\ ; 

II ic agit, ut Pindi cuhuine. nympha ohoros. 
Ert^ctus, pnvoops, sah4>i\x^us, et anluus, ille ; 

Aoolivis, phioidus. moUis, amcvnus, hie est. 
Ac siiuilis domiao ov^iit Natum sub uno ; 

Fart'aoiaquo troinunt sub ditiono pares. 
Dumque triumphauti terivs perh\bitur axe, 
Pnvteriens a\|ua stringit utrunique ivta. 



330 THE POEMS 

Asper in adversos, facilis cedentibus idem ; 

Ut credas montes extimulasse suos. 
Hi sunt Alcidte Borealis nempe columnae, 

Quas medio scindit vallis opaca freto. 
An potius, longe sic prona cacumina nutant, 

Parnassus capiant esse, Maria, tuus ! 



OF MARVELL. 331 



JOAls^NIS TROTTH EPITAPHIUM. 

CHARISSIMO FILIO, ETC. PATER ET MATER, ETC. FUKEBREM 
TABULAM CURAVIMUS. 

Age, marmor, et pro solita, tua humanitate, 
(Ne, inter parentum, doloreiii et modestiam, 
Supprimantur prceclari juvenis meritae laudes.) 
Effare Johannis Trottii breve elogium. 
Erat ille totus candidus, politus, solidus, 
Ultra vel Parii marmoris metaphoram, 
Et gemma sculpi dignus, non lapide. 
E Schola Wintoniensi ad Academiam Oxonii, 
Inde ad Interioris Templi Hospitium, gradum 

fecerat. 
Summ^e spei, summas indolis, ubique vestigia 
reliquit. 
Supra sexum venustus, 
Supra aetatem doctus, 
Ingeniosus supra fidem. 
Et jam vicesimum tertium annum inierat, 
Pulcherrimo undequaque vita3 prospectu, 
Quem mors immatura obstruxit. 



332 THE POEMS 

Ferales pustulse corpus, tarn affabre factum, 
Ludibrio habuere, et vivo incrustarunt sepulchro, 
Anima evasit libera, aeterna, foelix, 

Et morti insultans, 
Mortalem sortem cum foenore acciplet. 
Nos interim, meri vespillones, 
Parentes filio, extra ordinem, parentantes, 
Subtus in gentilitia crjpta reliquias composuimus, 
Ipsi eandem ad Dei nulum subituri. 
Natus est, &c. 
Mortuus, &c. 
Reviviscet primo Resurrectionis. 



OF MARVELL. 333 



EDMUNDI TROTTII EPITAPHIUM. 

CHARISSIMO FILIO, EDIMUNDO TROTTIO, POSUIMUS PATER ET 
MATER, FRUSTRA SUPERSTITES. 

Legite, parentes, vanissime hominum ordo, 

Figuli filiorum, substructores liomiQum, 

Fartores opum, longi speratores, 

Et nostro, si fas, sapite infortunio. 

Fuit Edmundus Trottius, 
E quatuor masculae stirpis residuus, 
Statura justa, forma virili, specie eximia, 
Medio juventutis robore simui et flore, 
Aspectu, incessu, sermone, juxtk amabilis ; 
Et, si quid ultra cineri pretium addit, 

Honesta disciplina domi imbutus ; 
Peregre profectus 

Generosis artibus animum, 

Et exercitiis corpus, firmaverat. 

C?rca3am insulam, scopulos Sirenum, 
Praeternavigavit ; 

Et in hoc naufragio raorum et sasculi 

Solus perdiderat nihil, auxit plurimum ; 



334 THE POEMS 

Hinc erga Deum pietate, 
Erga nos amore et obsequio, 
Comitate erga omnes, et intra se modestia 
Insignis ; et quantsevis fortunge capax. 
Delicise sequalium, senum plausus, 
Oculi parentum, nunc, ah ! lachrymte ; 
In eo tandem peccavit quod mortalis. 
Et fatali pustularum morbo aspersus, 
Factus est 
(Ut verce laudis invidiam ficto convitio levemus) 
Proditor amicorum, parricida parentum, 
Familice spongia : 
Et, natur£e invertens ordinem, 
Nostri suique contemptor, 
Mundi desertor, defecit ad Deum, 
Undecimo Augusti ; Mvdd Christi 1667. 



OF MARVELL. 335 



nPOS KAPPOAON TON BA2IAEA. 

'^2 dtaapiaTOTOKog^ Trevr' w dvanoT^oQ apu&^oq ! 

"i2 Trevre arvytpov, irevT' 'Atdao nvlat. ! 
'AyyTuJv d fiiy' ovetdoc, w ovpavioLOLv anex'^sQ \ 

'AIX' uTTelvixaiveg Ka/5/5o/l£ tovtov ava. 
ILiinrTOv tekvov edcjKS fioyoGTOKog 'EcXUdvia, 

Hevre 6e Trevrad/lov rsKva Ka?u)voi reov, 
'El 6e i9e/letf j3li3?ioi,g ralg oipLjovoioc nscr&ai, 

HevTTjTEVxov Exeig iraidia dioyevr/. 
'H on ■&eaizeairjQ ^f/lecff 'Nfjarupag aoLdrjg, 

'Ap(iovii]v Tvoieig ttjv did. ttevte Tiarep. 







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